


Not a Game

by Kuri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:18:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuri/pseuds/Kuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel thinks he dies temporarily when Lucifer stabs him. And then because their Dad has the lamest sense of humour, Gabriel's brought back to life.</p>
<p>As a cat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Mostly Sam/Gabriel, minor Dean/Cas)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has probably been done a million times before, but meh, I'm treating this as writing practice.

 

Gabriel is pretty sure that he dies when Lucifer stabs him, if the fiery hot pain that he feels even in his true form as he burns up within his vessel's skin is any indication. And then Dad resurrects him, because the next thing he knows, he's back in a physical body again.

It takes him a few, extremely disorientating minutes before Gabriel can even begin to comprehend his situation. He feels all odd and wrong, like he's wearing a shirt ten times too small. Or like he's been ungraciously stuffed into the wrong vessel, this time with the wrong number of limbs, attached to wrong parts of his body. Or like... oh hell _no_.

His vantage point is now approximately slightly above the height of a person's shoes, judging from the pair of faded green sneakers passing by front of him. His vision is funny too, colours all wrong and distorted. 

Gabriel slowly flexes, careful not to draw any attention to himself, just in case there are people (and/or angels) around that he'll rather avoid. He experimentally stretches out each of his limbs, making sure to count them one by one.

(He has four limbs. Only that he's standing on all four of them. What the fuck.)

And then his tail twitches.

He has a fucking _tail_.

Gabriel knows terrible dad jokes are a thing among the humans - he just never thought it would apply to _his_ dad as well.

So now all he has to do is to go find himself a suitably reflective surface so he can just figure out what on earth he is, and if he can turn himself back. Gabriel's still not really sure where he is, but judging from the ground beneath his - whatever appendage he's standing on - he thinks he might be outdoors, probably on a sidewalk somewhere. There's the unmistakeable sound of traffic in the distance, the low hum of chattering people. 

Right. A sidewalk means there has to be building somewhere nearby, and buildings usually mean doors or windows, and if he's lucky, he can check out his reflection.

He's not even sure how he knows how to move without even knowing what kind of vessel he's inhabiting right now, but he somehow manages it anyway. He scampers - _scampers_ , really? - up the first flight of stairs he sees, and sure enough, he comes up to a glass door. 

Gabriel slows down as he approaches, cautious. He's not stupid, he already has a vague suspicion as to what he is.

... _Goddamnit_ , Gabriel swears. Literally.

 

 

 

So he's a cat. More accurately: a tiny fluffy orangey-caramel and white kitten. 

Gabriel's not even sure if he's still an angel, only in a cat vessel, or if he's a cat _cat_. He can feel his Grace still within him, but he can't access it, like it's been locked in somehow. He'll consider the implications of Dad bringing him back as a depowered angel kitten later. For now...

Gabriel finds shelter under some bushes, and settles down on his paws to think. _Eww the ground is damp and dirty_ , is his first thought, and he has to fight with himself to focus.

He's not sure how much time's passed in between Luci killing him and now, and he has no way of telling if Sam and Dean are still alive, or if his eldest brothers are now walking around wearing Winchester meatsuits. The only thing he can be sure of now is that the Apocalypse hasn't happened yet, which isn't exactly a huge consolation, but he'll take what he can.

He starts by making a mental checklist of names who might be able to help him, or at least provide some information so he's not completely left out in the whole scheme of events. Even if he's loath to admit that he actually needs help this time, but Gabriel's not very keen on spending the foreseeable future as a stray kitten. 

The list is extremely short, unsurprisingly. The few allies he used to have from his pagan days are mostly dead, Kali hates small cute animals so she's out of the question, because she generally prefers them dead, for their skeletons. And obviously he's not going to risk revealing himself to any of the angels just yet.

So that just leaves him with Sam and Dean, and Castiel. It's a thoroughly depressing thought. Gabriel idly wonders if Castiel's still alive, considering how the last time he saw him, Castiel was pretty much on the way down while happily attached to the Winchesters. And that was with the generous assumption that the idiot lot are still alive and/or willing to help him. 

And then it turns out that he needn't have bothered thinking so much about it. 

"Dean, I see something," says an alarmingly familiar voice. "Look, there." 

Gabriel lets out an undignified sound as a pair of hands wrap gently around his tiny body, lifting him up into the air. It's slightly dizzying, even if he's now at a height that he's more accustomed to above the ground. 

"Oh thank god, it's just a kitten," Dean's voice says. He sounds sort of fondly exasperated. "Cas, you've gotta learn that when you say something like that to us, we kinda tend to take it like you've seen something bad."

"I will keep that in mind," Castiel says seriously.

So they're alive, Gabriel thinks. With the added bonus that Sam and Dean don't seem to be carrying around Lucifer and Michael with them, which is a good thing. He's not sure why he feels relieved at the realisation, but at least it's one of his major worries off his chest. Now, he just has to- 

"It's kinda cute," Sam is saying, and there's third warm hand carefully stroking the top of his head.

Sam is petting him. _Sam_ is _petting_ him.

"This is why you idiots keep attracting trouble wherever you go," Gabriel tells them snidely, "if you can't even tell that I'm not actually a cat." 

Or at least that's what he tries to say, because all that comes out is a series of high-pitched, trilling meows.

Well, fuck. Gabriel hasn't considered the possibility that he wouldn't be able to communicate. Undeterred, he tries again, this time attempting to send a prayer towards his angel brother.

_Castiel_ , he says, _Castiel, can you hear me? Guess what Dad did, Castiel you idiot put me down_.

That seems to have caught Castiel's attention. Gabriel wriggles stubbornly as Castiel peers closer at him.

"Dean," Castiel announces, eventually.

"Finally," Gabriel grumbles.

"Can I keep it?" Castiel says.

Fuck.

 

 

 

"This is ridiculous, we can't keep a cat," Dean is saying.

Gabriel is curled up in Castiel's trench coat, as they drive back to wherever Winchesters are staying for the night. "This whole thing is ridiculous," he agrees. Castiel's trench coat is kinda warm. It's rather distracting.

"I'll take care of it," Castiel says solemnly. It sounds like he's begging, which is hilarious.

There's a very long pause.

"Okay," Dean says. He sounds defeated. "Just keep it out of my car, I don't want it coughing up hairballs and scratching up the leather, and we're cool."

Now that just makes Gabriel want to mess up Dean's precious car even more. Only that... Castiel's coat is really warm, Gabriel thinks. Then he shakes himself out of it, vaguely disturbed. So apparently this damned vessel came with feline instincts, because the last time he checked, he didn't have any particular preference for cuddling up to warm things.

When Gabriel emerges from Castiel's coat, they're standing in the doorway of a motel room. Castiel gently unloads Gabriel onto a chair.

"You know, we've really got to work on this," Gabriel says. He stretches, digging sharp little claws into the cushion. "Starting with the obvious: I'm not a cat, you dumbasses."

Sam scoops him up.

"Hi there Sasquatch," Gabriel says. "It's such an appropriate nickname for you now, so thrilled for the opportunity to use it."

"It looks pretty healthy for a stray," Sam says, absently stroking down Gabriel's back with a finger, and Gabriel absolutely does _not_ lean into his touch. "You should name it, Castiel."

Castiel brightens. "May I? Unlike my oldest brothers, I've never had the opportunity to name any of our Father's creations."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "I'm not even going to ask," he says. He dumps his bag onto the table, and lazily sprawls down over his bed. "Seriously, the two of you are like a pair of teenage girls cooing over that kitten. Or lonely old cat ladies, I haven't decided yet."

"And personally I think I'm rather adorable," Gabriel says. He bumps the top of his head into Sam's palm. "Pet me, Sammy. See, Dean?"

Castiel looks like he's actually seriously contemplating a name for Gabriel. Gabriel tries to roll his eyes at Castiel, but he can't seem to coordinate the appropriate ocular muscles for the task.

"Do you know how to check if it's a male or female?" Sam asks.

Oh fuck. Gabriel hisses and digs his claws into Sam's shirt, but Castiel's already lifting him away. He tries to squirm out of Castiel's grip, but Castiel deftly flips him over in his palm and curls his fingers around Gabriel's tiny form to hold him still.

"Excuse me!" Gabriel says indignantly. Angels don't actually have genders, and most of them dress as their vessels' genders just for the sole purpose of blending in whenever they move among humans. Even if Gabriel's been both male and female, with plenty of un-angelic experiences with the physical bodies of both genders, this is still awkward and _ridiculous_.

Castiel picks up Gabriel's tail between his thumb and index finger. Gabriel attempts to bite Castiel, but Castiel is unaffected; clearly a pissed off kitten is as effective on an angel as guns or stakes. Gabriel gives up and sighs. Lie back and think of Mars bars.

"Castiel, I'll have you know that you're currently manipulating your older brother's genitals with your fingers," Gabriel informs him. "You're _molesting_ me."

"It's a he," Castiel says. "Look, I'll show you." 

"And now you're presenting your older brother's genitals to your boyfriend's little brother," Gabriel adds. "And _ow_ , by the way."

"I want to name him Gabriel," Castiel says seriously. 

Again, Gabriel curses his unfamiliarity with feline ocular muscles, because he really really wants to raise his eyebrows at Castiel now. Do cats even have eyebrows? He makes a mental note to check in a proper mirror as soon as he can.

"He kind of reminds me of him," Castiel goes on. "Gabriel, I mean-" 

"That's because I'm me," Gabriel says. "Duh." This possibly means that Castiel might have heard Gabriel earlier, after all. If that's the case, it's pretty likely that Castiel just couldn't understand him. _That_ Gabriel might be able to work with.

A strange look flashes over Sam's face, so fast that Gabriel can't read it. Ooh. Interesting. 

"You mean the stray kitten you just picked up reminds you of a dead Archangel?" Dean interrupts, sounding incredulous. "Is this some angel thing that I won't get, or what?"

"Yes, it could be some angel thing," Castiel readily agrees. "Although I cannot pinpoint what it is. If that's all right with you, Sam, I'll like to name this kitten after him."

"But Gabriel's... you know." Dean sounds uncomfortable. "Dead. We don't usually name pets after dead siblings, we name our _kids_ after dead siblings." 

"Am not dead," Gabriel says, but of course nobody pays attention to him. "Which reminds me, Dad did it, which is very important news, but of course I can't tell you this because none of you can understand me."

But come to think of it, maybe that explains why Gabriel's a cat, and why he's apparently incapable of communicating to anyone: it effectively stops him from telling anyone that Dad's still alive and kicking, and giving away Dad's location. That, and the undoubtedly lame sense of dad humour that's evidently universal in all dads, both human  _and_  heavenly, because seriously? A  _kitten_? 

The moment Gabriel finds his way back into his own vessel, he's tempted to go right up to Dad and throw the biggest drama queen bitchfest. In the form of multiple cats to sit stubbornly on all of his manuscripts while Dad plays prophet. And maybe knock over all his bottles and glasses too.

... Gabriel supposes that's where he got his sense of humour from. Hah, take _that_ , Michael!

"It's okay with me," Sam says. He takes Gabriel back from Castiel, holding him up to his eye level. "Hey, Gabriel, nice to meet you, buddy."

Sam looks kind of sad. Huh.

Gabriel meows at Sam and delicately bops him on the nose with a paw.

 

 

 

Gabriel soon discovers that kittens have a lot of pent-up energy. It doesn't help that _Gabriel_ has a lot of pent-up energy in general, even when he's not trapped in a cat vessel, so the whole being a kitten thing makes it a lot worse.

"Castiel, your cat is out of control," Dean says dryly, as Gabriel shoots across their room in a blur of furry hazel.

He's starting to get the hang of this vessel, Gabriel thinks, momentarily distracted by a speck of dust flickering in the sunlight - ooh _shiny_ \- before turning around to make another mad dash across the floor. It's kind of fun, especially when he goes too fast, nothing to stop him until he slips and crashes into the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Of course it doesn't hurt at all.

"He truly does remind me of Gabriel," Castiel says. "He was a very energetic angel, he could never stay still for too long before he had to go look for something to busy himself with." 

"Stop talking about me in the past tense, I'm not dead anymore," Gabriel says. He runs at Castiel's feet to bite at him.

"What do I feed him?" Castiel asks, fondly. "I think he's trying to eat my shoe."

"Pet stores should have food prepared specially for kittens," Sam says. "Some people feed them leftovers, but it's not very good for them."

"Oh god, you're not just a human food health nut, you're a cat food health nut too," Dean says in mock horror.

Gabriel ignores their conversation as he hunts about for a comfortable place to lie down now that he's worked off most of his energy, he can finally stop to  _think_. He finds himself a spot under the couch, and curls up, tail still twitching slightly. He kinda likes his tail now.

First he experimentally prods at his Grace sealed up within himself - nope, nothing. So he's going to need another angel to help him retrieve it, which means he's going to need to get Castiel to do it. Which brings him back to his original problem, namely the fact that he's a fucking kitten and he can only communicate in _meows_.

Why didn't Dad give cats opposable thumbs, Gabriel thinks sourly to himself, when he sees a pen lying on the messy pile of papers scattered over the tiny table in the corner. Research, probably. They must be in the middle of another case, then.

So then. The first order of the day: figure out how to communicate.

Then Castiel's face suddenly appears in the narrow gap between the couch and the floor. Gabriel absolutely does not jolt up in shock.

Kittens are too damned jumpy.

"Come out, Gabriel," Castiel says. "I have food."

Gabriel squeezes out, slowly blinking when Castiel places a small dish in front of him. He cautiously creeps closer, unsure what to expect. The plate is filled with what looks like brown, fish-shaped pebbles, and it smells terrible.

"You got me _cat food_ ," Gabriel says. "I don't know if I want to be amused or offended."

"I don't think he likes it," Dean says. He has a self-satisfied smirk plastered onto his face. "I told you to go get something with actual meat."

Does he even need to eat? Gabriel isn't sure - regular angels in regular human vessels don't need to, so it _should_ apply to angels in cat vessels. He's definitely not hungry or thirsty, for one. But damn he wouldn't say no to some candy or pastry, but he doubts even Dean will let Castiel get him chocolate.

"But the woman at the pet store said that kittens like it!" Castiel sounds vaguely distressed.

"Maybe he's not hungry now," Sam offers. "Just leave his food in a corner somewhere, he'll eat when he wants to."

"Smart boy. Or maybe he wants chocolate, not dehydrated pellets that look like dried animal poop," Gabriel adds. He dashes across the room, jumps up onto Sam's knee and deftly starts climbing his way up to perch on top of Sam's head.

_Castiel_ , Gabriel tries again, now that he's on the same eye level as a rather forlorn-looking Castiel now. _Castiel, damnit this is Gabriel, I need you to help get_ _me out of this ridiculous vessel._

"Hey Cas, I think your cat likes Sam," Dean says. Definitely not helping at all, because Castiel somehow looks even more despondent at that, standing in the middle of the room still holding a small bag of cat food.

"I refuse to cuddle up to my little brother," Gabriel says. Sam fidgets slightly, and Gabriel's pleased when he finds out that kittens have pretty good balancing skills. Or maybe it's just the angel part of him, he doesn't know. "Can you imagine the awkwardness?"

Gabriel's starting to get a kick out of insulting them in cat language, mostly because they just stare hopelessly at him like he's being adorable when he's actually being rude. Which is a tiny comfort, considering that he's going to need them to understand him so he can get back into a proper human vessel. If his vessel's still around somewhere, that is.

Dean shakes his head. "Anyway, we should get back to work. I'll go check out those names you found yesterday, Cas, wanna come along?"

"But-" Cas starts, still holding on to the cat food.

"Come on, Sam will babysit the cat," Dean says.

"I'll stay and see if I can dig up anything else online," Sam says. Gabriel senses an eye-roll there somewhere.

So it turns out that they're investigating a haunting. Or at least what they think is a haunting; Castiel isn't completely convinced it's a regular restless spirit. Gabriel climbs down from the top of Sam's head to settles down on his shoulder instead, and surprisingly Sam doesn't push him off. Gabriel watches as he works, going through old news articles and looking up local lore online.

"This is so much work," Gabriel says, after half an hour of this. He's bored of out his mind; he's pretty sure _he_ would be able to solve the case within a minute if he got to see the victims, or even the scene of the haunting. "You humans sure have it hard."

"Oh, Gabriel," Sam says suddenly, like he was so engrossed in his research that he hadn't realised he had a kitten on his shoulder. "Come on down here."

Gabriel finds himself being lifted off and placed in Sam's lap. Ooh comfy.

"This doesn't seem right," Sam says, after a while. Gabriel is slightly confused before he realises that Sam's talking to himself. "A few people _have_ died in that building, but none of the deaths seem connected at all. Cause of death... cause of death... There."

Gabriel pulls himself up to the edge of the table to look. When Sam picks up his phone to call Dean, Gabriel paces over the table, bats the papers about until he finds one that has Sam's handwritten notes on it. Cat vision doesn't seem to be made for reading, and he has to squint to make out the words.

Four dead people, all violent deaths, all living in the same neighbourhood, no signs of forced entry to their houses, no traces of the weapons used, the usual. No solid conections between the victims, except for that two of them were recently diagnosed with clinical depression. Hm. Interesting.

Sam hangs up the phone with a sigh. Gabriel turns to look at him; Sam looks exhausted, his expression tight and harried. He sinks back into his chair, rubbing at his eyes.

"You look like shit," Gabriel informs him. Obviously all Sam's going to hear is him meowing, so Gabriel goes to insistently headbutt at Sam's hand until Sam relents and pets him.

At least _that_ gets Sam to smile a little. Gabriel is smug; he's clearly too adorable for his own good.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Gabriel learns a lot about the Winchesters (and Castiel) over the next few days.

He quickly learns that Dean is the gruff one who still refuses to let Gabriel ride in his precious car unless he's bundled up in Castiel's coat. But Dean's also the one who will secretly feed him scraps of meat from his burgers and pizza under the table, because Sam still doesn't approve of it. Dean doesn’t coo over him like Cas and Sam do, but Gabriel still gets a few pets on his head whenever Dean thinks they’re not watching.

Castiel, bless him, is still constantly vaguely confused about everything. He doesn’t hang around the Winchesters all day, which doesn’t surprise Gabriel; every now and then he randomly vanishes for hours on end, presumably to deal with whatever angel business he’s currently up to. And it doesn’t take long for Gabriel to figure out that Castiel’s disappearances usually coincide with Dean being cranky and moody, mostly because Castiel is terrible at explaining himself.

And Sam... Sam is kinda cute. Gabriel's noticed how adorable Sam is when he gets upset - which was why Gabriel found it so fun to torment him in particular. But now Gabriel's reconsidering his opinion of him; Sam is careful and methodical while Dean is reckless and daring. And while Dean's style of hunting is more Gabriel's way of doing things (but look where that mess with Lucifer got him now), Gabriel's starting to develop something of a fond admiration for Sam.

Gabriel's left to his own devices more often than not, while they go out to investigate their case. Castiel tries to bring him along once, but they get kicked out of the local library when Gabriel jumps out of Castiel's coat pocket to chase after a scrunched up ball of paper skittering across the table.

"No pets in the library!" the librarian says furiously, gesturing at Castiel with a pen. "Out, you!"

Gabriel pounces on the paper ball and turns to glare indignantly at the woman. “I’m not their pet,” he says. “You’re clearly mistaken, see Castiel’s here, _he’s_ the Winchester pet angel. Not me.”

He turns to look up at Castiel as gravely as he can manage with a paper ball in his mouth. “Castiel, you heard the lady, out,” he says sternly.

“Cas, we’re almost done here, can you just go wait for us by the car?” Dean says.

Dean doesn’t even have the heart to tell Castiel to leave Gabriel back in the motel as Castiel gathers Gabriel up and leaves. Gabriel was extremely amused by Castiel’s plaintive, “But it’s not healthy for cats to be alone indoors for the whole day!”

(Dean is _so_ whipped.)

Castiel tucks Gabriel into the crook of his arm, wandering for a bit before there’s a familiar sensation of flying and then they’re back in the Winchester’s motel room. He sits down on one of the beds, still holding on to Gabriel. Gabriel pretends to growl (it comes out as a humiliating squeak, he’s _never_ doing it again) and playfully attacks Castiel’s tie.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel tells Gabriel, sounding quite puzzled. “I feel like there’s something big I’m missing here.”

“Ya think?” Gabriel says, delicately holding onto the edge Castiel’s tie with his teeth. Now that he’s got Castiel’s attention, he yanks hard at his tie _. Castiel. Castiel. Castiiieeeel._

Castiel tilts his head as he carefully looks Gabriel over. Gabriel pauses to send another _Hey Castiel guess who?_ at him and continues to pull at Castiel’s tie.

Gabriel’s really got to keep a lid on his cat instincts, but damn, long dangly things are so temptingly fun. The tie knot is becoming dangerously tight, but it’s not like Castiel needs to breathe anyway.

“I feel like the Father sent you to me for a reason,” Castiel says. “But I just don’t understand why.”

Gabriel sighs. This is going to be difficult. “Okay. First up, Cassie, can you hear me?”

If Gabriel’s estimation is accurate, Castiel’s head is tilting at a perfect forty-five degree angle now.

“You _can_ hear me, can’t you?” Gabriel says. “Damnit Castiel, read my mind!”

Impossibly, Castiel tilts his head even more. Gabriel imitates him, and he discovers that kittens have very flexible head-neck joints.

“Dare you to do this,” Gabriel says, when he manages to get his head bent perpendicular to the rest of his body. “I’ll even bet I look cuter than you doing it.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel says again, eventually. He gently tugs his tie away from Gabriel’s teeth, pushes Gabriel away and stands up. “I’ll have to look into this.”

“Wait, what?” Gabriel nearly hisses. And he was just _so_ close, too!

“Please stay out of trouble,” Castiel says seriously, attempting to readjust his tie and failing. “And please eat your food, I know Dean’s been feeding you chicken and ham.”

Castiel disappears in a flutter of wings. Gabriel sulkily digs his claws into the carpet, and goes to find something to destroy.

 

 

Sam’s yell when he discovers that Gabriel’s torn up all the toilet paper is somehow immensely satisfying.

 

 

Dean makes Castiel and Sam go get more toilet paper (“You guys wanted the cat, you fix whatever shit he destroys.”) and while they’re gone, Dean plunks himself down in front of the television, a takeaway bag in his lap, his feet up on the coffee table. Gabriel quietly creeps up to him, and Dean feeds him a huge chunk of chicken.

“I like you, I’m giving you full big brother approval to do the nasty with Castiel,” Gabriel says, snatching up the chicken and running off to eat it in a more discreet corner.

Sam and Castiel return before Gabriel can go beg more food off Dean, but Gabriel’s only mildly disappointed. Castiel tries again to get Gabriel to eat the cat food, and Gabriel endures about five minutes of Castiel’s depressed face before giving in and gingerly picking up a single fish-shaped pellet.

 Surprisingly it tastes pretty good.

“What the fuck,” Gabriel says out loud after a few more minutes and several mouthfuls of cheese and beef-flavoured kibble. “I’m eating cat food.”

He can almost imagine Dad laughing his ass off at him. Castiel’s still looking down at him with a hopelessly earnest expression. He’ll apologise to the little bro later, but for now-

Gabriel flicks his tail in annoyance and pointedly turns away. He sees that Sam’s settled back in his usual seat, a sheaf of papers in one hand and his laptop in the other.

 _Aha._ Laptop. Gabriel wonders if he can type out a message to Sam, assuming that Sam leaves his laptop unattended long enough for Gabriel to figure out how to use his paws on the keyboard. That shouldn’t be too hard.

As soon as Sam finishes setting up his stuff, Gabriel jumps up onto his lap. Sam doesn’t push him off, but moves Gabriel slightly into a more comfortable position. Gabriel squirms about and kneads at Sam thigh.

“Gabriel seems to like sitting on you, Sam,” Castiel says, unexpectedly.

His dry remark is almost immediately followed by the sounds of Dean choking on his food. “Dude, that sounds so, so wrong,” Dean says, still coughing.

“I don’t-” Castiel starts.

“Shut up, we’re talking about a _cat_ here,” Sam says. Gabriel cranes his head up; Sam’s face seems to have gone a very faint shade of pink.

Gabriel’s starting to get the feeling that he’s missing out on something here. He doesn’t like it, so he settles for letting out a particularly loud, frustrated meow.

Castiel blinks at the sound, like he’s just remembering something. “I have something to look into,” he declares perfunctorily, and vanishes.

Gabriel hears Dean make an irritated sound at Castiel, and he snorts. So he turns his attention back to Sam, who’s flipping through his notes while waiting for his laptop to start up. They don’t seem to be making any progress on their case, which is strange. Gabriel would have assumed that they’re generally more efficient than this; he curiously peeks at the laptop screen as Sam googles a bunch of stuff.

It looks like they’re still torn between it being a violent ghost or a low level demon. Gabriel waits patiently as Sam scrolls through a bunch of pages, clearly finding nothing important, because then he opens up a new tab and pauses, the cursor hovering over a blank search bar. _There_.

Gabriel gets up, stretches, and gracefully jumps up onto the table, landing right smack in the middle of the laptop keyboard. He glances at the screen. The google search bar now says _awecmi,bnmu[loyp._

That was oddly satisfying. It's no wonder cats like to do this all the time. Gleefully, he presses down again with his front paws. _gxzcyqewtxzc_ , the search bar adds.

"Gabriel!" Sam says. "You're not supposed to do that, get off now!"

Gabriel bats away Sam's hand when Sam reaches out to lift him away, claws just slightly extended to emphasise his point. "Patience, Sammy boy, give me a minute to do this," Gabriel says.

If he carefully taps down on the keys with a firm paw, he can type without ending up in an unintelligble keysmash. Gabriel gets as far as _sa_ before Sam catches hold of him.

“Go bother Dean, _he_ ’s not working,” Sam says severely, and puts him down on the floor. Sam even has the _audacity_ to make a small shooing gesture at him when he tries to jump back up.

“Ugh,” Gabriel says, irritated. “I got myself killed for you ungrateful bipedal apes, and this is what I get in return?”

 

 

Okay. So maybe Dad has a reason for resurrecting him as a cat, after all. If only he can figure out exactly why, maybe Dad will actually return him to his proper vessel, Gabriel thinks, which means he’s going about this the entirely wrong way.

“I still don’t see how I can be use to the Winchesters as a _kitten_ ,” Gabriel says out loud, disgruntled.

“Gabriel, get off my computer,” comes Sam’s voice.

Gabriel’s taken to sitting on Sam’s laptop whenever he can. It’s the sweetest form of revenge he can manage in his current state.  

It also means that when Sam discovers him, he usually transfers Gabriel to his lap instead, which means Gabriel gets to cuddle up to Sam while Sam lazily scratches at the back of his ears. Sam’s also taken to talking aloud to Gabriel as he works, which Gabriel finds both amusing and endearing; Sam’s been stuck with the research while Dean goes around talking to people, wheedling information out of them. Castiel hasn’t even returned from wherever he’d disappeared to, and Dean’s been increasingly antsy about it.

“Just go talk to Cas,” Sam finally snaps at Dean, after Dean’s usual morning routine of pacing around the room while loudly complaining about Cas, about how their stupid investigation isn’t going anywhere, about Cas, about how terrible the pizza is here, and again about Cas.

“Well I would,” Dean retorts, “But oh, we seem to have a minor problem here, he’s never around!”

Gabriel tunes out the rest of their argument as Sam and Dean continue sniping at each other. It’s been nearly a week of him living as a kitten and he’s _restless_. Not that a week is a particularly long period of time for him, but he’s never gone this long without his powers. He feels trapped and frustrated, and the only thing he can take his anger out on is the toilet paper, which unfortunately Dean now keeps locked up in the cabinet under the bathroom sink.

“Look, we should just call Bobby,” Sam is saying. “We still don’t even have a clue what we’re dealing with, and right now we’re just going around in circles.”

Dean sighs. “Okay, fine. I’ll just go follow up on this new lead first, then I’ll give him a call.”

Sam is still a little tense when Dean leaves, deliberately slamming the door on his way out, so Gabriel paws at him to get his attention.

“Oh, hey there,” Sam says quietly. “I hope we didn’t scare you.”

“Now I’m offended,” Gabriel says, but it’s difficult to not get distracted when Sam lightly rubs under his chin. “You’re lucky that I like the lot of you, or I would smite you the moment I get back into a form that isn’t limited to smiting dust bunnies.”

And then Sam starts doing that thing where he thoroughly engages in a one-sided conversation with a kitten. It’s one of those odd human habits that Gabriel thinks is _supposed_ to be adorable, kind of like how some angels like to fondly watch the humans floundering about. Gabriel would find it hilarious, because really, who talks to _cats_ , but he can’t help listening anyway, adding in his own cheeky remarks every now and then.

“My whole life is a ridiculous joke,” Sam tells Gabriel. “I would try talking to Cas myself, but it’s not going to work, Dean has to do it. And I would probably just make it worse, and god I wish Dean would just stop being so stubborn sometimes.”

“God’s busy turning Archangels into kittens,” Gabriel says. “Now I wish he’d turned Michael and Lucifer into kittens and let them at each other instead, it would have been way cuter and a lot less painful.”

“And Dean thinks that Cas is the emotionally-stunted one,” Sam says. “But hey, that makes them perfect for each other, don’t you think?”

“If Luci were a kitten, would that make you angel catnip?” Gabriel goes on. “I can just imagine the new gospels now. God looked at his Angels and made them into cats, and he saw that it was good and as hilarious as fuck. And so he recorded the entire thing and put it on Youtube.”

“Somehow I don’t expect that we’ll see Cas for a while this time,” Sam says. He sighs, but doesn’t elaborate this time.  

Gabriel eyes Sam’s notes. “Honestly, I could probably help you if I knew what was going on,” he says. “It’s funny to watch you guys fumble around, but it’s already been a week and I’m bored.”

“Two more victims since we started our investigation,” Sam says, and it’s almost like he’s heard Gabriel’s complaint. “So that makes a total of six victims. Victim number five was laid off a week ago, but other than that he was completely ordinary. Victim number six, she lived alone with eight cats, and again, nothing out of the ordinary with her. But all of them seemed to have been pretty miserable just before they were killed, so now we’re thinking maybe a demon that was attracted somehow to their sadness-”

“I bet I’m cuter than all those eight cats put together,” Gabriel says. “Wait, what were you saying?”

“-no sulfur, absolutely nothing to indicate any demonic activity, but everything’s more consistent with what we usually see with hauntings, only we haven't found anything…” Sam’s voice trails off.

Gabriel tilts his head. “Seriously?” he says, incredulous. “That’s it? Isn’t it obvious what it is?”

“Damnit, we must have missed something going through the local death records,” Sam says at last. “Hey Gabriel, what do you think?”

“I think you’re an idiot,” Gabriel says. It’s not like Sam expects a kitten to answer his question, but Gabriel tries anyway. “Try supernatural entities born from strong human emotions. In this case, pure, abject misery and why the fuck am I even bothering? It’s not like you can understand me anyway.”

Gabriel scowls. This is fucking ridiculous, he thinks sourly. He supposes he can try the typing thing again, only that Sam’s been watching him like a hawk whenever Gabriel gets anywhere near his computer when it’s on, ever since that first time. And it sure doesn’t help that Sam just easily lifts him away from the keyboard every single damn time, because Gabriel’s a fucking tiny, helpless kitten.

He doesn’t even have his damn strength in this idiotic vessel; earlier this morning he surreptitiously tried to push a chair, on the pretext of sharpening his claws on the chair leg. All he achieved was nice, shiny claws and barely visible scratch marks on the furniture, because apparently kittens are also stupidly weak at this size.  

Sam’s phone rings. He reaches over the table to pick it up, the sudden movement jostling Gabriel, and Gabriel reflexively plants his claws into Sam’s jeans to steady himself. Sam winces slightly, because hey, Gabriel has sharp claws now.

“Don’t do that, Gabriel,” Sam says disapprovingly.

“Oh,” Gabriel says. “I swear I didn’t mean to do that, but consider it payback for all those times _you_ waved sharp things in my face?”

Dean’s voice comes over the phone. “Don’t do what?”

Gabriel jumps up and climbs his way up to Sam’s shoulder, pawing at the phone. It’s pretty amusing to watch as Sam tries to keep Gabriel from falling off, hold the phone to his ear, and listen to Dean all at the same time. In the end Sam gives up, catching hold of Gabriel and setting him down on the floor.

“You’re no fun,” Gabriel says, as he strains to catch Dean’s end of the conversation. From what little he can make out, Dean’s already contacted Bobby and now he needs Sam to come along to look for something.

“Sure thing,” Sam says. “I’ll go get ready.”

“Meh,” Gabriel says, settling down on the bed to watch as Sam efficiently throws a bunch of things into a briefcase, then disappears into the bathroom to change into a suit, complete with vest and tie. “Are you going to leave me alone here now? And why are you not changing in front of me?”

Gabriel briefly considers the consequences of stowing himself away in Sam’s bag while Sam isn’t looking, which he’s pretty sure is supposed to be normal cat behaviour. In the end he decides against it, because FBI agents or building inspectors or whatever Sam’s pretending to be this time don’t usually carry around kittens in briefcases.

Humans are _so_ boring.

 

 

About fifteen hours later, Sam and Dean stumble back into the motel room, in the middle of the night. They both look mildly bruised and banged up, but otherwise unharmed, with a weak, residual presence of something supernatural about them.

“I see you got your monster of the week,” Gabriel says grumpily. He’s sitting on top of the mini fridge, licking at his paws. He absolutely refuses to think of it as him grooming himself. “Congratulations, you didn’t need my help after all.”

Dean collapses onto his bed, still fully dressed. “Shower first, celebratory beer-” he checks the clock on the bedside table “-tomorrow,” he says. “I hurt _everywhere_ , I refuse to move more than I have to. No, scratch that, celebratory beer _now_ , I deserve all the alcohol after that fucker threw me through the wall.”

“You’re out of beer, you just had the last bottle yesterday,” Gabriel informs Dean. “There’s only your breakfast iced coffee left in the fridge.”

“We’re out of beer, you just had the last bottle yesterday,” Sam says absently, stripping off his jacket. There’s the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing, and the sound of running water as Sam washes his hands, then yells through the door, “Oh, I think you still have some coffee in the fridge, from your breakfast this morning.”

Gabriel freezes. _What_. Was it just a coincidence, or was Sam parroting his words like he actually heard them. Gabriel doesn’t believe in coincidences, considering what he is, which means that _what the fuck_ Sam can actually understand him now?

Dean swears, heaving himself off the bed and trudging over to the fridge. Gabriel barely registers it when Dean gives him a pat on the top of his head, then opens the fridge door to rummage through the contents.

“Okay this won’t do, we’re getting that celebratory beer right now,” Dean says. “Want to hit the bars?”

Sam sounds amused. “Didn’t you just say you were hurting all over?”

“Beer. Now.” Dean’s already picked up his keys and across the room, headed for the door.

“Coming!” Sam calls.

“Wait up,” Gabriel yelps, jumping down off his perch on top of the fridge. But he’s too slow; Sam and Dean are already out the door by the time he gets there.

“Stay here, we’ll be back soon,” Sam says, and shuts the door before he can run out after them. There’s a click as Dean locks the door from the outside, footsteps, and then the sound of their car driving away.

Gabriel stares helplessly at the door, and slumps down to the floor. His stupid cat ears droop in disappointment.

“ _Sammmm_ ,” he whines.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Gabriel is miserable. It’s not just the whole cat thing, which is still a glaring problem that fucking refuses to go away on its own, but he’s dirty and wet and cold. And he thinks he has tiny grits of sand stuck between his paws, because even if he doesn’t really feel any pain, it’s making him walk strangely and he doesn’t like it.

So Sam and Dean are helping Bobby out with a hunt, which means that they’re currently out somewhere doing their hunter thing while Gabriel’s stuck at Bobby’s place. Gabriel doesn’t care much for Bobby, so the moment Sam puts him down, Gabriel ran off to squeeze himself under the nearest couch.

Speaking of Sam, Sam hasn’t paid him much attention ever since the incident with the depression-hungry ghost; Bobby called them while they were out drinking, apparently, and of course they had to rush right over to meet him.

Gabriel refuses to acknowledge that he’s _sulking_ because Sam isn’t cuddling him as much as he did the past week.

On a lighter note, he’s still not sure which he finds funnier, Bobby’s incredulous “Why the fuck do you two have a kitten?” or Dean’s exasperated reply, “Sam and Castiel wanted to keep him.”

Gabriel idly listens uninterestedly as Bobby tells Sam and Dean about a nest of something or other. Bobby’s house is a treasure trove of cabinets and shelves and shelves of books and old texts, random sigils and signs etched into the walls.

He likes to think that it’s a significant improvement in his personality that when he finds a few incorrect spells marked into the baseboard, instead of laughing at them, he settles down and attempts to scratch it into something that will actually work.

If anything, it helps with sharpening his claws, even if it takes him ages.

He soon comes across a particularly impressive one on the window sill, with delicately snaking lines that extend to the outside. It takes him a few tries to jump up to look at it – in the end he has to leap up onto a nearby side table, then do some sort of a weird sideways jump to get onto the window.

The lines on the outside look a bit weathered and worn. Gabriel tilts his head, eyeing the curling lines of the pattern. Bobby’s going to need to redo them, they’re faded enough that they might not be as effective as they should be.

Which is how Gabriel’s current problem starts.

Firstly, he does not anticipate that he might fall off the ledge.

He falls down to the ground outside with a soft thump, his instincts somehow taking over and he lands on his feet. Which is pretty cool, Gabriel thinks. Not like it matters to him, but a lot of other creatures would find this sort of ability useful – humans, for instance.

But then Gabriel would have missed out on all the trickster fun of throwing bastards off tall buildings.

And now his second problem is that he can’t get back up.

“Ugh,” Gabriel says, really tempted to start mewing piteously now. He’s apparently too small and weak to jump that high, because fuck kittens.

He’s not an idiot, so he doesn’t bother trying again after his fifth or sixth failed attempt at jumping back up. He’ll just have to find his way to the front door then, and if Sam and Dean are still in - hope that Sam hears him somehow.

And then _of course_ before he can even get anywhere near the front porch, it starts to rain.

“Damnit, Dad,” Gabriel mutters, then yelps when the fat raindrops fall on him, heavy and wet and _disgusting_. The nearest thing that looks like adequate shelter is too far away, a pile of junk car parts and scrap metal, but he makes the run for it.

He’s soaked through by the time he manages to to squeeze under what looks like a half of a dented, rusty car door. He huddles in on himself, shivering and miserable.

Gabriel tries shaking the water off his fur, like a dog, but it only makes him dizzy and annoyed. The ground is sandy and dirty, and the more he moves about, the more bits of sand get stuck to his wet paws and fur.

“I’m going to die here,” Gabriel says, trying to sound as dramatic as he can. “Dad, I’m going to die here and the world’s going to be an unfunnier place without me.”

Of course, Dad doesn’t reply.

Gabriel mews plaintively, but the rain’s too heavy for anyone to hear him from inside the house. And he’s pretty sure that they’ve gone out to scope out the nest, which means he’s going to be stuck here until the rain stops, or they come back, whichever happens first.

Ugh. Why were cats designed to not get wet?

The rain’s getting even heavier. Gabriel doesn’t feel the cold, but his stupid cat vessel is shivering, and he can’t help it.

And then he sneezes.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, shivering and pathetically meowing, getting more and more despondent with every second that passes. But finally, finally – he hears the familiar sound of the Impala driving up.

“ _Sam_ ,” Gabriel whines.

A few moments pass, and he hears the sound of the car door slamming shut, and rapid footsteps slooshing through the puddles as they get down and run into the house. Gabriel wonders if he should just run up to the front door too, meow loudly until they hear him, but he decides that he’s too miserable to move anywhere. He’s just going to die here all alone, the Archangel Gabriel, in the form of a wet kitten-

And then Sam’s face is peering at him.

Gabriel doesn’t even have the energy to jump up. Sam reaches in and scoops him up, and for a wonderful, glorious moment, he’s bundled up in Sam’s jacket as Sam runs back in with him. He’s probably dirtying Sam’s jacket, but he doesn’t care, and stubbornly clings to it when Sam attempts to put him down.

Dean is staring at Sam. “Dude,” he says at last. “How the fuck did you know he was out there?”

Sam seems uncertain. “I dunno,” he says. “I just had a feeling?”

Sam finally manages to detach Gabriel from his jacket. Gabriel whines and rolls onto his back.

“I hate you,” Gabriel says. He’s still going for the dramatic angle. “I’m going to die _again_ , and I’m going to die discontent and come back as a restless angel ghost and haunt your asses.”

Bobby reappears, carrying a small hand towel. “You should probably dry your cat off,” he says, throwing the towel at Sam. “It’s too young, it probably can’t handle the cold too well.”

Now that gets Sam moving. Gabriel puts on his best sad-kitten look (he’s had quite a while to practise it), and Sam looks positively guilty as he gently rubs at Gabriel’s fur with the towel.

“I’m going to go cook something up for dinner,” Bobby says. “We’ll eat early, then move out by seven. Sam, your cat need anything?”

“Strawberry cheesecake,” Gabriel says.

“Uh, Cas will get upset if he ever finds out that Gabriel eats anything other than cat food,” Sam says.

Gabriel hears a loud clang as something heavy falls to the floor. Then Bobby’s voice says, even louder than usual, “ _Gabriel_?”

“The cat,” Dean says helpfully. “His name is Gabriel.”

There’s a very awkward silence. Gabriel bursts out laughing, only that it comes out in a weird singsong, squeaky noise that makes Sam drop the towel, fussing over him. Bobby leaves the room, muttering something that sounds like _idjits_ and _these boys_.

“You didn’t hurt me, you fool,” Gabriel says. “It’s just my wounded ego.”

Gabriel cuddles up to Sam, listening as they go over their plans for later. It doesn’t sound like it’s going to be an easy hunt, and Gabriel feels slightly uneasy, and not for the first time, curses his stupid kitten vessel. Angels are supposed to keep their interference in human affairs to a minimum, but Gabriel’s kind of itching to join their hunt so he can smite all the bad guys for Sam.

Damn. He’s starting to get protective of the sasquatch.

Gabriel refuses to think too much about it – the one thing he’s never denied is the fact that he’s good at being in denial about things.

“The dirt’s not getting off his fur,” Sam says after a bit. “I’m going to have to bathe him.”

Dean shrugs. “You do that. I’m going to go help Bobby with dinner.”

Sam fills a shallow basin with warm soapy water, balances it on the edge of the sink. He’s surprisingly gentle, talking to him encouragingly the whole time. Gabriel’s amused, but he sits quietly as Sam scrapes the mud off his matted fur with a finger.

“Cas is right,” Sam says, after a while. “You do remind me of Gabriel somehow.”

Gabriel sighs. “Not going to go there again,” he says darkly, closing his eyes contentedly as Sam cleans behind his ears. “You lot are too dense, I’ve given up trying that route.”

“I wish we could have saved him too,” Sam goes on. “We’ve got Lucifer in the Cage again, we’ve got Cas back, and everything else is fine. But of course everyone I’ve ever liked has to die, or want to kill me, apparently. Dean has Cas, and I have _nobody_.”

“You’re even better at the kicked-puppy look than I am, and _I’m_ the kitten here,” Gabriel says grumpily. Then he blinks. “Wait, mind rewinding that last bit?”

“I’m shit, aren’t I?” Sam laughs weakly. “I can never do anything for anyone, it’s always everyone else who has to watch out for me.” He lifts Gabriel’s front legs and starts scrubbing away the sand between his the pads of his paws with an old toothbrush.

Gabriel frowns. “Don’t say that. If I had hands right now, I would whack you over the head.”

Sam finishes cleaning him, transferring Gabriel to a clean fluffy towel and carefully bundling him up to keep him warm, while he pours the bath water away down the drain. Gabriel squirms out of the swaddle of towels, pokes a damp head out to peek at Sam.

“It’s stupid, like I can even begin making up for it by adopting a kitten,” Sam says, but finally he smiles a little, although ruefully. “I can’t even imagine what he would say if he found out.”

Gabriel scowls. “I’ve been saying a lot of stuff, you guys just haven’t been listening. But hey, Sammy, mind going back to what you were saying about me?”

“I wonder where angels go after they die?” Sam does that little shaky laugh that humans like to do when they’re trying to lighten up a morbid topic. “Cas either doesn’t know, or he doesn’t want to tell us. But I hope if there’s a version of heaven for angels – other than their regular heaven, obviously… I hope he’s happy there.”

Gabriel stares. He’s not sure what to do with this new information, that Sam actually cares ( _cared?_ ) for him? And for a brief, stupid moment, Gabriel wonders if all angels become cats after they die, and this is just his version of heaven, and that’s just pathetic. But obviously not, because then the earth would be overrun with frustrated, ill-tempered, invincible cats who will presumably live forever, because obviously nobody’s ever going to try running an angel blade through a cat.  

Sam’s an odd one, too. It’s been years ever since Gabriel’s felt anything more than vague fondness for any human, but he’s taken an actual _liking_ to Sam. Not even in that way the angels with assigned charges feel about the humans they’re protecting. While Gabriel’s never had anyone specifically to watch over, because of his rank – guardian-type angels are a few ranks below archangels – he understands the sentiment.

Although he’s pretty sure what he’s feeling right now extends beyond that. The realisation makes him glare at his reflection in the mirror – _ooh_ , he’s _adorable_ , even when he looks like a wet rodent with oversized marbles for eyes.

Sam laughs at him. “That’s your reflection, Gabriel. Nothing to be afraid of.”

That’s when Gabriel realises that he’s been making faces in the mirror, just to watch his wet furry face contort itself.

“Not funny, Sam,” Gabriel snaps, glowering.

Sam dries him off, brings him out and releases him in the living room, while he joins Dean and Bobby in the kitchen. Gabriel runs about, relishing the feel of being clean and warm and dry again, hiding behind bookshelves and stalking invisible enemies around. He’s in the middle of pretending to smite a stub of eraser when Sam comes back.

“We’re going out for a bit, ‘kay?” Sam pats him on the head. “We’ll probably get back tomorrow afternoon.”

Gabriel abruptly drops the eraser. He frowns; he doesn’t like the sound of this.

“Bring me with you?” Gabriel says forlornly. “I can help!” By meowing at the monster until his cuteness wins it over, sure.

“Bye, Gabriel,” Sam says.

Gabriel watches mournfully as Sam follows Dean out the door. He glares at the eraser, angry and frustrated, bats it away, then goes to find somewhere comfortable to wait out the night.

 

 

They return at dawn. Gabriel jumps up when they come in, scattering bits of bitten-up eraser about, and freezes when he sees that Sam’s doubled over, supported by Dean and Bobby as they half-drag, half-carry him through the living room and into one of the spare rooms. His eyes are open but glazed over, and he looks _terrible_. There’s a thin trail of blood running from his hair down to his jaw, but the way he’s moving, it’s definitely more serious than a couple of bruised ribs.

Gabriel follows after them, thankful that Dean’s left the door open, and he quietly slips in. They’ve laid Sam down on the bed, and Dean’s cutting his shirt off, pulling the bloody fabric away in shreds.

Bobby swears. “This looks pretty bad, it’s not going to be easy to fix up ourselves,” he says. “How about-”

Dean looks furious. “No, but… Cas! Damnit, Castiel, get your absentee ass over here right now, Sam’s hurt!”

Fuck. There’s a small table by the bed, and Gabriel leaps up onto it to get a better look at Sam. Sam’s in bad shape, shivering and trembling, his face tight in a pained grimace.

“Dad, if this is your idea of a punishment, you’ve got it,” Gabriel says, angry and feeling like the most useless, shittiest thing in the entire universe right now. If only he weren’t stuck as a kitten, if only he had access to his _powers_.

Desperate, he attempts to reach out for his grace again, to forcefully pry it out, but nothing happens. He’s still despairingly trying to draw his grace out when there’s a gentle flutter of wings and Castiel’s suddenly there with them, standing over Dean’s shoulder.

Gabriel watches helplessly as Castiel leans over, pressing his fingers to Sam’s sweaty forehead. Sam visibly relaxes as the warm healing light flows through him, his wounds mending themselves, but it doesn’t help with the self-resentment still tearing at Gabriel.   

Castiel finally straightens up, looking solemn. “How did this happen?”

 “We were hunting,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “A nest of ghouls, they caught us off guard. Sam got hit the worst.”

Bobby sighs. “I’m going to go unload the truck,” he says. “Get some rest, the lot of you.”

Bobby disappears. There’s a brief silence as Dean glowers at Castiel, and Castiel frowns back in complete bewilderment. Sam sits up, stares at the both of them, and sighs.

“You guys seriously need to talk,” Sam says. He holds out an arm to Gabriel, and Gabriel obligingly launches himself at him, making Sam let out a small _oof_ as Gabriel collides headfirst into his stomach.

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean says. “There’s nothing to talk about, we’re not a bunch of teenage girls at a sleepover party.”

“What’s wrong?” Castiel seems even more confused now. “Dean, are you mad at me?”

“And I thought _my_ older brothers were dysfunctional at communication,” Gabriel says. He noses at Sam’s bare skin, turning up his nose at the smell of Sam’s blood still smeared over his ribs. Satisfied that Castiel’s healing has done its work, he settles down in Sam’s lap.

“I’m going to refuse to talk to either of you until you’ve sorted out whatever it is that’s happening between the two of you,” Sam says.

“Nothing’s happening,” Dean says stubbornly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Gabriel snaps at them. “Go fuck each other’s brains out already, why won’t you?”

That seems to trigger something in Castiel. “We are going to discuss this,” Castiel says stiffly. He grabs Dean by the arm and marches him out of the room, much to Sam’s surprise.

Gabriel blinks. He’s not sure if it’s a coincidence, or Castiel subconsciously reacting to his attempts to communicate, but he finds that he doesn’t particularly care now. He turns his attention back to Sam.

“I didn’t save your ass from Lucifer just so you can get yourself killed by a couple of wannabe evil creatures dumber than my left paw,” he says sternly.

Sam pets him. “I hope I didn’t worry you too much,” he murmurs. “But I’m okay now.”

It should be awkwardly intimate how Gabriel’s curled up against Sam’s bare skin, but it isn’t. It just feels so normal and natural and so peaceful, like Gabriel’s _meant_ to be with Sam like this.

And then Gabriel gets it, as he feels the slow rise and fall of Sam’s chest as he breathes. He gets why Dad’s done this. It’s not a punishment, but a gentle lesson to Gabriel.

_Stop running away. If you care for something or someone, go for it_.

Dad’s trapped him as a kitten to force him to watch someone he cares about suffer. _Look at all these chances you could have had, of helping him. And you’re missing out on every single one of them._

And so Gabriel reacts the only way he knows how to: he runs away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m51qvjIgCB1rwv892o1_400.gif

 

Gabriel escapes when Sam falls asleep, tired out from their hunt. He makes it all the way across the house in his determination to put as much distance between him and Sam, fully intent on sneaking out the back, where he knows there’s a window above the kitchen counter that’s always open. Get away from Sam before things get even more out of control.

But then he finds Dean and Castiel in the small kitchen, Dean pointing a beer at Cas, clearly in the middle of an argument.

“You see, that’s the problem,” Dean is saying. “You can’t just zap off for _days_ and not tell us anything. If anything happened to you, we wouldn’t know where to start looking for you, damnit.”

“But Dean,” Castiel says, and bless him, he sounds so confused. “I’m fine.”

Gabriel snorts. Evidently Cassie still hasn’t completely gotten the hang of how humans work, what with their neurotic tendencies and all. Shrugging to himself – at least this might distract him from his Sam problem – he meows loudly to announce his presence, jumps onto the table and settles down to watch them.

He tucks his paws neatly under himself, looks up at Castiel, and grins. “Look, I’m a catloaf.”

“That’s not the point,” Dean snaps, frustrated.

It takes Castiel a whole five seconds to get it. “You’re concerned about my wellbeing,” he says, eyes widening almost comically.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you as the girl in the relationship, Dean,” Gabriel says. Heh, _pegged_.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Dean mutters to himself. Then he sighs, curses loudly, and sighs again. “Yes, fine, fuck it, I fucking care if you’re still alive or if some bastard’s managed to off you somehow. You’re an angel, but you’re not invincible.”

“I hadn’t realised it was bothering you, I apologise,” Cas says. He hesistates, then adds, “I’m honoured that you care.”

Gabriel lets out a theatrical groan. “Is everyone here just incapable of saying what they want to say?”

Pot, meet kettle, welcome to the club of burnt kitchen appliances.

This is starting to uncomfortably remind him of his Sam problem, which he’s now starting to suspect is somehow tied to his _cat_ problem. What did he do to deserve an omniscient dad, he’ll like to know.

Dean actually looks crushed. “You know what,” he says jerkily, “Forget that I said anything.”

“Castiel, you idiot,” Gabriel hisses. “This is when you’re supposed to take Dean in your arms and tell him that you love him.”

“No, wait.” Castiel steps even closer to Dean. He suddenly looks uncertain. “Please tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”

Gabriel can tell that Dean is trying his hardest to not back away. Castiel is so close to him that their faces are almost touching, and it’s taking all of Gabriel’s self-control to not run at Cas and try push him just that tiny distance farther into Dean’s face.

That’s when Castiel kisses Dean.

Gabriel lets out a loud squeak, just as Dean grunts in surprise and jerks away. Castiel looks hurt, but Dean grabs him and says, all in a rush, “You’re not supposed to just- oh fuck it.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Gabriel’s never said no to being a voyeur, but somehow this just feels so wrong, on so many levels. Maybe because it’s his _little brother_ getting defiled here. “Excuse me,” he says, his voice coming out in a high, plaintive mew.

At least that gets their attention somehow. “You’re going to burn _my_ eyes out,” Gabriel mutters, as they break apart. Castiel looks confused, like he’s not used to processing this many thoughts at once, and Dean just looks faintly irritated.

"I am not doing this with your kitten watching us," Dean says, pointing at Gabriel. “Get him out of here.”

“Yes please,” Gabriel starts, but then Castiel waves a hand at him, and Gabriel’s suddenly looking down at Sam’s sleeping face.

To Sam’s credit, he seems to take the sudden appearance of a kitten sitting on his bare chest a lot better than most normal people would have. Gabriel fights back his instincts and keeps his claws tucked in even as Sam jolts up with a small yell, which means Gabriel loses his balance and topples right into Sam’s lap.

Gabriel’s acutely aware that he’s now a furry ball of cat situated just a few inches away from Sam’s crotch. Awkward.

“Oh it’s you,” Sam says. “I suppose Castiel did this to you?”

“Your brother is about to screw my brother in the kitchen,” Gabriel says into his stomach, his voice muffled. He’s absolutely refusing to uncurl himself, like if he avoids looking at his problem long enough (that lump in Sam’s jeans that’s quite possibly his dick, so close to his face), it might go away on its own.

Sam laughs. “It does take some time to get used to,” he says gently.

“I’m an angel, you dickhead,” Gabriel says, because he’s _that_ creative with his insults.

Sam picks him up, finally. “Is everything okay? You seem upset.”

“No, everything’s fine and dandy,” Gabriel says sarcastically. He’s just recovering from watching his little brother clumsily attempt to make out with the older brother of the guy Gabriel’s currently being in denial over, he’s a fucking kitten, Sam’s hands feel _huge_ wrapped around his tiny body, and again, the realisation that Sam Winchester might be the first human he’s cared about in a long, long time.

Sam Winchester. Gabriel slowly blinks at him. He’s not stupid, he’s known for a while – even before the whole cat thing happened to him – that Sam’s most of the reason for his change of heart. Kind-hearted, selfless Sam, the boy who never wanted anything to do with the supernatural, yet gave up his chance to live a normal life, just to be with his brother who needed him.

Cliché as it sounds, Sam’s everything Gabriel wished he could be. Even if he hates to admit that Sam’s a far better person than Gabriel ever will be in his entire life.

Then he remembers that he was just in the middle of running away from Sam. He wriggles.

“Put me down, Sam,” he says.

Sam carefully lowers him down onto the bed, by the pillow. Gabriel’s just about to stretch out his claws to scratch at bedspread when he stops to look up at Sam.

Sam shrieks.

 

 

 

“I _swear_ , the cat _spoke_ to me!”

Sam sounds hysterical, which would be kind of hilarious if this weren’t Gabriel’s first chance at actual communication in nearly two weeks. He skulks about under the table, cautiously watching as Sam gestures about wildly.

“Okay, so what did the cat say to you?” Dean sounds half-skeptical, half-wary. Gabriel doesn’t miss how Dean’s hand seems to be jerkily inching towards the hidden gun holster in his belt.

“ _’Put me down’_ , he said,” Sam says. He’s pacing about frantically. “I was playing with him, and he asked me to put him down.”

“Okay. That sounds surprisingly normal,” Dean says. “At least it wasn’t something like _I’m going to kill you_ or _I need your help to restart the apocalypse_ – don’t give me that look, Cas, we’re allowed to be sore about it still.”

“Animals do have a language of their own,” Cas says, speaking up before Sam can respond. “It’s not usually audible to human ears, but of course it requires spells, some form of magic, an inborn ability, for humans to understand them. And no, before you ask, I cannot understand them either.”

Dean snorts at that, an eyebrow raised.

“At the most, I get brief flashes of their thoughts, but only if it’s a particularly strong emotion they’re feeling at that moment,” Cas goes on, like he hadn’t heard Dean.

Dean turns to Sam. “Are you sure you weren’t imagining it? I mean, you were pretty out of it, you could have been half-asleep, maybe you dreamt it.”

“No. I swear I was perfectly awake,” Sam says. “Do you… Do you think that maybe it’s something wrong with me? Again?”

Sam sounds so upset that Gabriel creeps out of his hiding place. They immediately fall silent when they notice him, but Gabriel ignores them, running right up to Sam instead and pawing at his ankle.

“I don’t-” Dean starts, unsure, “-I don’t need to shoot it or anything, do I?”

Gabriel’s not sure how resilient a kitten vessel would be to bullets. Even if he’s still sure that it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest, he’s not keen on finding out personally. He gives Dean a reproachful glare, then turns back to Sam.

“Sam.” It’s Bobby now. “Pick him up.”

“Um. Okay.”

Gabriel senses that Sam’s a little extra careful this time. He wills himself to relax, his body going limp as Sam scoops him up and waits expectantly.

“So? Is he saying anything now?”

“Hiya, Sam,” Gabriel says, just as Sam shakes his head no.

“You sure?”

“Fuck you, I’m trying,” Gabriel says. He stares up at Sam, willing him to understand, but again Sam just looks confused.

“He’s just… meowing,” Sam says at last. “Really loudly.”

“Yeah, I think we kinda get that,” Dean says, staring.

“Maybe,” Castiel says seriously, “They’re just developing a bond.”

“Oh, great,” Gabriel quips. “Thanks for the reminder, Castiel.”

Sam actually looks apologetic at that. “I’m sorry Cas, I know you’re the one who found him and all, but-”

“It’s not your fault,” Castiel says seriously. “Dean has already told me that I should be more empathic about my absences-” here Dean suddenly goes red “-and I’m sorry that I left Gabriel’s care to you.”

“Oh?” Sam’s eyes gleam, whipping around to face Dean. “What else did Dean say to you?”

“Excuse me? I’m still here,” Gabriel says indignantly, but Dean’s sputtering at Sam and Cas to cut it out. For a long moment, it’s just Dean and Sam maturedly sniping at each other, until Bobby steps in and tells them all to shut the fuck up, he’s going to go out into town to stock up on gasoline, then have brunch.

“And if you’ve decided that you idjits are grown up enough to behave, you can come along,” he says. “As for the cat, we’ll just keep an eye on him. You said you’ve had him for two weeks now?”

“Yup,” Sam says, scratching the top of Gabriel’s head. Gabriel hums contentedly and snuggles closer into Sam’s shirt.

“It’s too soon to say, but I say we just keep him for now, keep an eye on him. If he doesn’t do anything weird, then congratulations, you’ve got yourself a new pet.” Bobby looks vaguely calculative, but then he shrugs.

“Sounds good,” Dean says. He smirks winningly at Sam, then says, more seriously, “We’ll need to stock up on a few things too before we can hit the road again, we’ll come with you.”

Gabriel’s not even fazed this time when they leave. Instead, he dashes around the living room, climbs his way up onto a tall cabinet, letting out a loud gleeful whoop as he flings himself off. He tumbles down to the floor, completely unhurt, and considers his options.

Sam can only understand him in bits and pieces, but it’s a start, better than absolutely nothing. Castiel’s probably right about them bonding too, if Gabriel’s theory about why he’s a fucking cat is accurate.

“Dad, we have Cupids for this shit,” Gabriel says, disgruntled, then immediately takes it back in case Dad gets any ideas.

Slightly cheered up now, he goes back to stalking around the house, looking for something to entertain himself with. The bathroom door open and he slips in, skirting around the puddles on the floor as he tries to get up onto the sink to look at himself in the mirror again.

He manages it on his second attempt, although he does skid a little when he lands, the cool ceramic slippery under his paws.

There’s an open case of Q-tips by the mirror. Ooh.

Gabriel delicately plucks one out, holding plastic bit between his teeth. He lays it down by his feet and stares at it, thinking.

He takes three more from the little box before he’s satisfied.

It’s difficult to carry them all together, but in the end he manages them two at a time. He transfers them to the mat just outside the bathroom door first, checks them once again to make sure that they’re still usable – he made sure to carry them by the middle, so the cotton wads at either ends are still clean and dry.

He knows where Sam and Dean’s room is – upstairs, second door on the left. Sam’s bed is the one by the window, his bag lying open by the foot of the bed.

Sam’s bag smells like _Sam._ Gabriel refuses to dwell on the thought that he recognises Sam by _smell_ now, and carefully places each Q-tip in the bag, arranging them in parallel rows across the top of a blue plaid shirt. 

“Ha,” Gabriel says, contented.

 

 

 

They leave at three, Gabriel hanging around Castiel as Sam and Dean say goodbye to Bobby. He’s almost disappointed that he wasn’t around to see Sam’s reaction to the Q-tips in his bag, but he’s happy enough with himself that he doesn’t mind.

This time Dean lets Gabriel sit on the dashboard, curling up in the sun as they drive. Gabriel doesn’t sleep, but he falls into some approximation of it, eyes closed although he keeps his ears out to listen for anything out of the ordinary; he senses a couple of supernatural creatures here and there, but they’re mostly harmless so he lets them go.

Castiel’s sitting in the back, alternating between stonily staring out the window and staring at Dean. Sam sleeps for a few hours, Cas announces that he’s going to go check on a few other angels about something and disappears. Gabriel continues to pretend to sleep, stirring occasionally to yawn widely – something he trained into himself years ago, because apparently humans tend to think you’ve died if you lie very still for too long.

Funny things, these humans.

Gabriel cracks open one eye to peek at Sam. His very own, favourite human. Funny how he’s starting to think of Sam in the possessive now.

When it gets dark, there’s a small squabble if they should find a place to stay for the night, or go on driving. Sam wins, and they stop by a place that has a large handwritten sign by the front counter that says _No Pets Allowed_ , so Dean empties out a backpack for Sam to smuggle Gabriel in.

By the time Gabriel’s let back out, Dean’s already sprawled out in bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes.

“I’m just going to nap for a bit,” Dean says. “Wake me up in fifteen minutes for supper.”

“And he wanted to drive through the night,” Sam sighs, with a resigned expression that clearly says this happens all the time. He glances at Gabriel. “He’s so stubborn,” he mouths conspiratorially.

Gabriel glances at Dean. Dean’s already fallen asleep, snoring lightly, conked out the moment his head hit the pillow.

“You can say that again,” Gabriel agrees. “So where are we headed for this time?”

“There’s this small town a couple of days north from here,” Sam says absently. “Cattle mutilations, pets going missing, the usual. Hopefully it shouldn’t take us too long, and after that’s done, we’re going back down to Kansas.”

“Sounds like something’s been preying on the animals,” Gabriel says. He shrugs. “Or it could be witches. Never really liked them, they’re always so full of themselves. And they’re always _so_ fug, the last time I met one in Nepal? _Ugh_.”

“I’ll bet,” Sam mutters. He sits down on his own bed, and Gabriel bounds up to him and rests his chin on Sam’s knee.

There’s a long, companionable silence.

Then Gabriel realises something.

“Sam?” he says tentatively.

“What?” Sam looks down at him for a beat, and then his eyes slowly go wide.

“Oh god please tell me I’m just hallucinating again,” Sam says. “Why does this always happen to _me_? You’re not _Lucifer_ again, are you?”

“Nope, wrong Archangel. Hate to break it to you, but this is all real,” Gabriel says, then stops. He’s not sure how Sam might react to discovering who he is; he’d been counting on Castiel being the first one to find out. “Okay I’m going to need you to calm down. Promise me you won’t shout? Cats are fucking jittery, loud sounds make me jump.”

Gabriel can see the exact moment Sam puts two and two together; his mouth falls open in a silent shout, and he backs away from Gabriel so fast that Gabriel reflexively springs back and nearly falls off the edge of the bed.

“What the,” Sam starts. “You’re fucking… Oh god. _Dean!_ ”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... Let's just pretend that this fic fits into the canon timeline somehow.

 

So it turns out that Dean can wake up, jump out of bed, pull out his gun from under his pillow, and ready it to fire, all within the span of three seconds; Gabriel suspects that it’s mostly because of him being startled awake by Sam’s screaming.

Dean, the ever so protective big brother, awww. Some things clearly never change.

“Well, this is awkward,” he says, sitting up straighter and attempting to look at least somewhat dignified about the whole thing, and trying hard not to quip about how _his_ own big brothers were never this protective of him.

“Yeah you can say that again,” Sam says. He’s alternating between wildly pointing at Gabriel and then at Dean, who now looks extremely confused and disoriented.

“Do I need to be shooting anything?” Dean says. He squints blearily at Sam.

“No!” Sam looks flustered. “I mean. Dean, that’s _Gabriel_.”

“Hi,” Gabriel says dully. He raises a paw and tries to wave it vaguely in Dean’s direction.

Dean seems even more confused now. He frowns at his gun, clearly deciding that he doesn’t need it and tucks it back into its holster, then rubs at his eyes. “Come again?”

“Gabriel.” Sam points at the kitten sitting by the edge of the bed. “Gabriel is _Gabriel._ ”

“Before either of you guys jump all over me for it, I swear, I’ve been trying to tell you for days,” Gabriel says, just as Dean says, “Dude you’re not making any sense.”

“The cat,” Sam says, now starting to sound like he’s bordering on the hysterical, waving his hands about, “is _Gabriel_.”

“Yeah, that’s what you and Cas named him,” Dean says blankly.

“Sam?” Gabriel says carefully, still ready to jump out of the way in case either of the brothers decide to shoot him after all, “I don’t think Dean can understand me. It’s just you.”

Sam turns to stare at him, wide-eyed. “You’re kidding, right? Why does this always happen to me?” he says, almost plaintively.

Gabriel shrugs. “Hell if I know, I don’t even know why I’m a fucking cat.” Sort of. “One moment I was dead, the next moment I was small and fluffy. And alive. But again, more importantly: fluffy.”

And now Sam suddenly looks stricken with guilt. “So, um. You really did die, huh?”

“Yup. Burnt from the inside out, vaporised, the whole shebang.” Gabriel hops aside as Sam sits down heavily next to him. It’s kind of hard to resist the temptation to immediately jump into his lap, but he’s pretty sure Sam isn’t going to be as accomodating this time. And also - _awkward_.

“Sam,” Dean interrupts. He starting to look slightly alarmed now, not that Gabriel can blame him. “Who are you talking to?”

“Gabriel,” Sam says, then seems to realise how crazy he must look to Dean. He grimaces, sighs, and goes on, “The kitten, Dean. It’s not a cat, it’s _Gabriel_. As in the _angel_ Gabriel.”

There’s a long, tense silence. Dean stares at Sam, who just shrugs hopelessly. Gabriel winces inwardly, and attempts to shrink himself into a tiny non-threatening ball of fluff, which isn’t too difficult.

It’s Dean who breaks the silence. “Why,” he says flatly.

Sam automatically answers for him. “He doesn’t know why, he says he died and then he became a cat.”

“I swear, it’s not one of my tricks,” Gabriel says. “In case you guys haven’t figured it out, I have no angel mojo and I’m stuck.”

“He says he has no angel mojo and he’s stuck,” Sam says to Dean, like it’s perfectly normal for him to be translating back and forth between his brother and a talking kitten.

Gabriel supposes that in the Winchester line of work, between digging up graves and getting harrassed by angels, weird is pretty much the definition of their everyday lives.

Dean immediately jumps to the next point: “Does Cas know about this?”

“Nope.” Gabriel’s starting to feel an itch coming on just above his ear. He wishes that Sam would scratch it for him, but it’s probably not very appropriate now. “He can sense that I’m not an ordinary cat, but I’m sure he can’t pinpoint why.”

“Oh now that’s just great,” Dean mutters, after Sam translates for him. “So what, did God do this to you? Isn’t he supposed to be off somewhere pretending that he doesn’t exist?”

Gabriel’s tail twitches. “Ah, you’ve hit the nail on the head with that one,” he says. “Yup, Dad’s the one who did this, and-” His words abruptly cut off, and for a moment he just gapes stupidly up at Sam.

“And?” Sam prods questioningly.

Gabriel tries again, but again his throat seems to constrict when he tries to form the words. So apparently Dad doesn’t want Gabriel telling on him?

“…. Fuck,” Gabriel says eloquently. Then, “Damnit Dad, this isn’t funny, fuck you.”

Dean gets curious when Sam remains silent. “What’s he saying now?”

Sam looks uncomfortable. “I think he’s blaspheming,” he says uncertainly, even as Gabriel continues cursing violently.

Gabriel snaps sulkily, feeling like a particularly rebellious teenager. The itch around his ear is getting stronger, which isn’t helping at all. “He’s _my_ Dad, I’m allowed to swear at him. I would think _you_ would know a thing or two about that.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. “I guess I can see the logic in that,” he says, in the end.

Dean lets out a noise of exasperation. “By the way, you look crazy talking to yourself, I hope you realise that. I’m texting Cas, and then I’m going to go get food. You-” he points at Sam with his phone, “-are staying here to keep an eye on him,” he finishes, pointing at Gabriel, who immediately goes back to pretending to be a cute, completely non-dangerous ball of fluffy cat.

There’s another long awkward silence after Dean leaves. Gabriel uncurls himself, tries to paw at his ear to relieve the itch, and when that doesn’t work, he lets out a loud huff of frustration and throws himself backwards onto the bed, rolling about as he attempts to rub his ears against the rough threadbare sheets.

“Um. Gabriel?” Sam sounds uncharacteristically nervous. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, my ears itch and I can’t – _damnit_ – scratch at them,” he says snippily. Defeated, he rolls onto his front and fixes Sam with half-hearted, miserable glare.

“Do you…” Sam starts, sighs to himself, then continues in an weak mumble “- want me to help you with that?”

Looks like he’s not the only one who’s embarrassed here. The thought cheers him up slightly, and Gabriel is briefly torn between saying yes, or running away to hide under the bed to save whatever shred of dignity he has left.  

Fuck it. Embarrassment’s always been a human concept after all. Besides, the carpet under the bed looks filthy, like nobody’s ever cleaned it in years, and he’s not too keen on getting dust all over his fur again.

“Yes please,” he whines, and he’s pleasantly surprised when Sam actually leans over and picks him up, cradling him in one hand while scratching behind his ears with the other.

Sam laughs after a while. “You know, now that I’ve gotten over the shock, I’m starting to find this kinda funny,” he says. “Didn’t you turn me into a car once?”

Gabriel meeps. “Was sort of hoping that you would have forgotten about that,” he says unrepentantly. “But you sure made one hell of a sleek car.”

“Well _you’re_ a tiny, adorable kitten,” Sam retorts. “You have a _tail_.”

Oh the _burn_. Gabriel doesn’t even mind; it’s such a relief that his meowing has finally gotten through to Sam. He’s vaguely aware that he’s started purring again, and turns his head to nose into Sam’s palm.

“I never thought you would be a cat person,” Gabriel says. Sam smells of leather and salt, and Gabriel gently bumps his nose against the inside of his wrist.

“Not really,” Sam admits, grinning sheepishly. “I’m more of a dog person, but I’m okay with most animals, generally. And like I said: you’re a cute kitten.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being cute,” Gabriel says haughtily. Satisfied for now, he squirms out of Sam’s hands and lets himself fall onto the floor. He’s sort of touched that Sam seems slightly worried when he tumbles off the bed.

“So,” Sam says, more serious now, “When you said that you’ve lost your mojo, what did you mean? Are you still an angel, or are you like… A cat? The same way Cas got turned into a human?”

Gabriel stretches, his claws popping out and digging into the carpet. “Apparently I’m an angel cat,” he says. “A bit of both, if that makes sense to you. For one, I don’t actually need to eat or sleep. Or poop, for that matter.” Then he narrows his eyes. “And what was that about Cas being human?”

“Long story,” Sam sighs. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“’Course I do.” Gabriel’s mildly surprised at his own concern, but he pushes away the thought. He paces about. “Tell me everything’s that happened after I died, the whole war with Heaven, the Host, my brothers.”

And is it just him, or does Sam wince at the mention of Gabriel’s death?

Sam sighs again, moves to sit on the floor by the bed instead, leaning against it. He pats the floor next to him and Gabriel obligingly runs up to him to settle down by his side, and Sam starts talking.

 

 

 

At some point, their conversation derails and they’re spiritedly arguing over the best brand of chocolate – Sam thinks he should know better, he’s not a fan of sweets but when he does find something he likes, it has to mean it’s _good_ , but Gabriel keeps trying to pull the I’m-older-than-you card, insisting that he’s probably tried literally every type of chocolate in the world.

“That doesn’t count, you just like everything that can give you diabetes,” Sam counters, and that’s when Dean comes back.

“Dude.” Dean’s holding two grease-stained paperbags, standing there staring at them. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about, but Sam, you _definitely_ look like you’ve gone crazy.”

Gabriel hastily jumps away from Sam, suddenly aware of how they were sitting so closely together. Dean’s still giving him that look that Gabriel interprets as being torn between shooting Gabriel and shooting himself, so Gabriel meekly creeps under the bed to hide.

“And Gabriel,” Dean says, a strange expression on his face like it might physically hurt him to talk to a cat, “Cas says he’s busy now, but he’ll try to come over by tomorrow morning.”

“Gotcha,” Gabriel calls back. He’s still crouched under the bed, looking up warily at Dean.

He doesn’t come out until after they’re both done eating. By the time he thinks it should be safe enough, Dean’s half-asleep and Sam’s lying in bed with his phone, checking his emails.

So Gabriel’s actually been curling up next to Sam at night whenever he sleeps, even if Gabriel himself doesn’t need the sleep. Sam hadn’t minded it the first night, when he’d woken up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and found Gabriel right next to his pillow, and Gabriel had just kept it up since then.

But now? Gabriel sighs to himself. Maybe he’ll find something else to amuse himself with until Castiel turns up tomorrow.

He goes to the window. They’re on the second floor; it’s a long fall down, nothing he’s sure he can’t survive, but somehow he doesn’t like the idea of straying too far from Sam. And considering kittens’ exceptionally shitty self-navigation systems, he’s not sure he can find his way back to the room by tomorrow morning.

“Gabriel?” It’s Sam, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Are you okay?”

Gabriel’s mildly peeved that Sam’s asking if he’s _okay_. He’s perfectly okay, he’s just a cat, no big deal.

“I’m fine, kiddo, go to sleep. I’m guarding the window for flying shadow wisps.”

He can actually sense Sam’s frown all the way from here, which is hilarious. “Never heard of them,” Sam says curiously. “What are they?”

“They look like a cross between beetles and dragonflies, but they’re ugly litle things. They travel in invisible swarms at night-” Gabriel makes a show of craning his neck out to check the sky “-and they form cocoons around their sleeping victim, causing the poor bastard to get nightmares, which they feed on. I’m pretty sure I heard a swarm buzzing about out there earlier.”

“Oh,” Sam says. “Um, thanks. I guess.”

“And I totally just made that up. Go to sleep, Sam.”

There’s a long silence, only punctuated by a sudden, soft snore from Dean.

“Fuck you, Gabriel,” Sam says, and laughs.

In the end, Gabriel carefully settles down on a side table next to Sam’s bed, watching as Sam grunts, tosses and turns in his sleep - hunters are generally light sleepers after all. He wonders if Sam still gets nightmares.

Gabriel thinks that when he gets his mojo back, maybe he’ll use some of it to allow Sam to fall into a deep, restful sleep for once.

 

 

 

Castiel turns up at dawn, immediately snatching Gabriel up with such force that Gabriel _squeaks_ loudly in surprise, and that gets Sam and Dean bolting up from sleep with small shouts of their own.

“I can’t believe this is my life now, fuck all of you,” Dean says, sounding like he’s so done with everything, and collapses back down on his pillow.

“Gabriel,” Castiel says urgently, his usually-calm voice with a wild undercurrent of panic, and if he doesn’t loosen his hold on Gabriel’s stomach, Gabriel might turn inside out. And wouldn’t that be a fascinating experience.

“Cas, I think you’re strangling him,” Sam says hesitantly.

“I forgive you,” Gabriel says, as Castiel abruptly drops him onto Sam’s bed, now looking extremely alarmed.

Castiel does an odd jerky gesture with his hands like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, then lets them fall to hang stiffly by his side. “I’m sorry,” he says guiltily. “I forgot my strength for a moment – Gabriel, is that really you? You’re alive?”

“Yes, like I’ve been saying the few hundred times before this,” Gabriel says irritably. He rolls himself upright and tries to lick down his ruffled fur.

“And apparently I’m the only one who can understand him,” Sam adds, with a resigned shrug. “Dean tried but he can’t, all he hears is meowing.”

Cas just looks _confused_ now, blinking down at Gabriel, then at Sam.

“I don’t-” Castiel starts, then turns to Sam. “Did he just say something?”

“You’re a butt, and your face is a butt,” Gabriel says vehemently, because he’s mature.

Sam lets out a giggle that he hastily muffles with a fist. “No, he’s not saying anything important,” he says, and attempts to glare at Gabriel. “Cas, can you fix this?”

Castiel’s already picking him up, this time very carefully handling him about so he can look Gabriel right in the eye. Gabriel whines and flippantly bops him on the nose, and then-

There’s a sudden bright flash of unearthly light, burning hot deep within his core, and Gabriel shudders as he feels the touch of Castiel’s true form on his own. It’s been too long since he’s felt this, it’s too intimate, like he’s unwillingly baring his entire being to the very people he’s been hiding from; for a short second, he panics and hopes that Sam and Dean had the foresight to close their eyes just in case, and – fuck.

Castiel staggers back, letting out a loud grunt of surprise, and Gabriel falls down onto the floor, landing with a hard thud.

He’s still very much a cat.

And ouch. That actually hurt. Gabriel blinks and watches as Castiel’s shoes swim in and out of focus, his vision spinning about dizzyingly.

“Cas? You okay?” That’s Dean now, and Gabriel struck with odd relief that at least Dean sounds like his eyeballs are still intact.

“I,” Castiel says, stumbling and Sam grabs hold of him, helps him over to fall heavily into a chair, “I’m okay, but Gabriel-”

“ _Ow_ ,” Gabriel calls out. His vision is still whirling about, and he doesn’t trust himself to stand up again just yet.

“Something extremely powerful is binding him,” Castiel says, confirming Gabriel’s suspicions. “Unfortunately I don’t think I can break it, I tried reaching out for it and it repelled me,” he adds sullenly.

Well, fuck. Awesome.

So he’s got to break this thing himself? By performing the equivalent of confessing his love for humanity? (And Sam frigging Winchester?) And admitting that he’s been wrong for the past couple of thousand of years?

Fuck that.

“So now what?” Sam’s saying. “We can’t leave him like this forever!”

“Well, at least he’s not causing us any trouble in this form,” Dean says. “I’ll say we leave him like this, drop him off at a shelter along the way.”

Gabriel can’t tell if he’s joking. He _hopes_ Dean’s joking. “I’m going to pee on all your clean shirts,” Gabriel threatens him anyway, just in case.

“Can you help me take care of him while I try to sort this out?” Castiel says. “Gabriel pissed off a lot of people – and things - and if they ever find out how vulnerable he is now, they might come after him.”

“He pissed _us_ off too, you know,” Dean reminds him, as Gabriel hisses indignantly.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam says.

“I was joking,” Dean says, deadpan.

In the end, Castiel goes off again, but not before he and Dean have an entirely quiet but furious argument over absolutely nothing in the hallway outside, while Sam’s in the shower. Gabriel sits on the bed and wonders if Cas and Dean’s bickering is going to end in them making out like a bad romance cliché, but Dean comes stomping back in just as Sam emerges from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.   

“Didn’t you and Cas already talk things out?” Sam says.

“We did,” Dean mutters through gritted teeth, and avoids the rest of the conversation by snatching up his towel and shuts himself in the bathroom.

Sam stares as the bathroom door slams.

“He’s just mad that Cas won’t put out,” Gabriel says airily, and Sam nearly drops his towel at that. Gabriel gets half an eyeful of Sam’s ass – and that is one muscular ass right there _._

“ _What_ ,” Sam squeaks, looking grosssed out and scandalised all at once.

“Cas is probably confused, angels don’t come pre-installed with sex manuals,” Gabriel goes on, thoroughly enjoying the look of dawning horror on Sam’s face. “It took me quite a few years to perfect the skill myself.”

Sam groans. “Now I’m starting to wish I can’t understand you, I honestly don’t want to hear about my brother’s sex life,” he says.

Gabriel wisely shuts up, watches as Sam gets dressed and packs up his stuff. There’s not much to pack, and Sam soon returns to lie down in bed to wait for Dean.

Gabriel thinks, then plods over to Sam. “Hey, Sam?” he says, hesitantly.

Sam looks down at him. “Yeah?”

Gabriel waffles about, then says, awkwardly, “Thanks.”

He doesn’t elaborate, but he thinks Sam gets it anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is extremely short DX Two more chapters to go, I think!

 

The next day, Dean insists that they drive on through the night to make up for lost time, and they soon arrive at the town with the mutilated cattle and missing pets – Gabriel’s already bored by the sound of it, sulkily stalking about the room as the brothers set up their stuff and discuss strategies and plans with ruthless efficiency. 

“How much holy water do we have left, just in case it turns out to be a demon?”

Sam checks his bag. “One bottle here, and four more in the car, if I remember correctly. Have you sharpened your silver knife?”

Dean swears. “Fuck, I’d completely forgotten to do that. I’ll just do it now, then – so we’re good on the usual supplies, or should I drive into town to get more?”

“Nah, we’re good here.”

Dean grabs his keys from the stand and goes down to get the sharpening stones from the car, and Sam collapses in bed. Gabriel immediately bounces up to him, and bats at his knuckles.

“Honestly, you idiots. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I can say with a hundred percent certainty that it’s not a demon,” Gabriel sniffs disapprovingly.

“Can’t hurt to cover all the bases,” Sam says. “And how do you know it’s not a demon?”

“You’ve probably forgotten this minor detail, but _archangel_ here,” Gabriel drawls.

Sam grins. “You’re a _kitten_.”

“Fuck you.”

Sam very pointedly doesn't respond to that, smoothly changing the topic instead. “So what do you think it is?”

“Like I said, if there aren’t any other signs: witches.” Gabriel yawns deliberately as he thinks. “And if not witches, then one of the thousands of ugly things that prey on animals.”

“But they’re not actually eating them,” Sam counters. “Just… Er. Ripping them to shreds.”

“Then that would rule out half of those thousands of supernatural predators, which would leave you with, oh, about five hundred plausible explanations. Four hundred, if you exclude the things that have gone extinct.”

Sam seems to take a deep breath before going on. “And out of those four hundred, which would be the most likely culprit here?”

“The angry restless spirit of a meat grinder,” Gabriel says promptly. "It's tragic, isn't it?"

Sam sits up. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

“Nope.”

To Gabriel’s surprise, Sam doesn’t even seem irritated. Instead, he turns around to pull out his laptop, then says steadily to the screen as it starts up, “You’re lying. Why are you even still sticking around with us? You know we can’t help you. I know Cas asked us to watch you, but why would you even care what he says?”

Gabriel’s quick retort is brought up short as he looks up at Sam. It’s not like he hasn’t been thinking about it; he’s spent the past two days riding in the back seat of their car in self-imposed exile, which meant plenty of time alone to think without the distraction of Sam’s stupid face.

Now that he knows for sure that Castiel isn’t going to be able to help restore him back to his human vessel, there’s really no reason for him to be hanging around still. Dean grudgingly tolerates him, but he does it with a funny look on his face whenever Gabriel’s anywhere within his line of sight, while Sam is just his normal self, although slightly more self-conscious than usual.

It pisses him off.

It’s not entirely Sam’s fault, really. It’s all mostly Gabriel; the past few days of Sam being oddly and increasingly cordial to him makes _no_ sense. So maybe Sam’s just someone who’s truly good at heart, if his wide puppy eyes aren’t indication enough. So _maybe_ Sam might have accidentally let slip in a very roudabout way that he doesn’t actually hate him.

But it still doesn’t make any sense. Sam might be kinder and more forgiving and generally a better person than the rest of the pathetic bastards Gabriel’s had the misfortune of knowing, but nobody’s _that_ dumb. Gabriel’s done more than his fair share of tormenting Sam on the few occasions he could, and Sam _should_ be raging mad at him, but he’s not.

“Look kiddo,” Gabriel says, slightly abrasive now. He _knows_ he should keep his mouth shut, but the words just spill out of him in his anger at himself, at Sam, at the whole fucking universe. “No matter how long I stick to you; one week, a whole year, _ten_ years? It makes no difference to me in the grand scheme of things. I could hang around as your immortal, ridiculously non-ageing pet kitten until you’re a hundred years old, but the time I spend with you is insignificant to me.”

Sam’s voice is quiet. “So that’s all we are to you? A quick break from whatever persona you’ve adopted, and then you’re going to go on your merry way once you’re bored?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” Gabriel says. He turns around from Sam, but he’s not quick enough that he catches a glimpse of the hurt look on Sam’s face at his last flippant reply.

He feels his tail twitch stiffly about as he leaps onto the nearest chair, flopping down with his back to Sam on purpose. He idly licks at a paw and rubs it over his ears as he thinks.

He should just leave, he knows. Track down Dad, whine at him until he turns Gabriel back to his normal form. Maybe spend a few human lifetimes as some aspiring hunter’s familiar along the way if Dad thinks he hasn’t earned enough brownie points for the grand prize. Maybe he’s just meant to be stuck like this forever until the apocalypse happens for real.

Sure, he cares about Sam, but what next? Even if he figures out what exactly’s goes through that thick Winchester sasquatch skull, and it turns out that Sam is just _that_ dumb after all. Sam’s just an ordinary, stupid, terribly mortal human who willingly puts himself in danger every other week in his line of work. The most he can do is to stay to watch over him, occasionally turn up to offer a little angel mojo to help out on their hunts if Sam lets him, but that’s about it.

He makes up his mind just as Dean comes back to the room, a soda in one hand, a small black cloth bag in the other.

“Sam. Listen,” Gabriel says carefully, keeping his tone neutral. “I’ll help you with this one hunt. No snarky comments, no insults – to the best of my ability, I promise. But after that? I’m outta here. Like you said, there’s no reason for me to be sticking around.”

Sam doesn’t respond for a long time, but finally he slams his laptop shut and says, angrily, “Fine. Whatever you say, if that makes you happy.”

There’s a long silence, and then Dean whistles and says, “ _Awkward_.”

 

 

 

If Gabriel weren’t so distracted by his Sam problem and his _cat_ problem, he would have been impressed by the way the brothers worked.

Dean digs out a bunch of fake IDs, and selects a set for a completely made-up branch of a government organisation for animal welfare. He tosses one at Sam, and Gabriel has to fight back the urge to pounce on it as it bounces across the bed, because _shiny_.

“You’ll be surprised, a lot of people don’t know the actual names of the official agencies,” Sam says, when he notices Gabriel staring at the little plastic card, apparently completely misinterpreting his moody gaze. “The key is to look confident and smile, and then it’s just the matter of talking them into giving us what we need.”

Sam sounds a little strained still from their argument the previous day. Gabriel sighs. If Sam’s going to make the effort to be civil, he might as well return the favour; with any luck, they’ll wrap this up as soon as possible and Gabriel can get away from Sam before he completely goes insane, and Dad decides to chuck his ass into a cage too.

(They won’t even need to build a fancy new cage for him, all they’ll have to do is to pop by the nearest pet store for a crate. Har har.)

“So is the cat coming along?” Dean says, emerging from the bathroom fully dressed in a suit and tie. He irritatedly tugs at his sleeves like it offends him to be dressed so formally, and glares in their direction.

“If he can keep quiet long enough for us to do our job,” Sam says.

Gabriel holds up a paw. “Pinky swear.”

They spend the whole morning and a good portion of their evening going around talking to the locals. It’s a quiet town, a small farming community where everyone seems to know everyone else. Dean surprisingly lets Gabriel ride on his dashboard again, and he listens to them discussing the case as he stares out at stretches and stretches of green fields in the distance.

It’s mind-numbingly dull. He’s starting to rethink his promise about not snarking off to Sam.

“How many places do we have left?” Dean says.

“Just one more. The Roberts, who live right at the other end of town.” Sam sighs as he flips through a notebook, the pages covered in hastily-scribbled notes. He goes on, obviously for Gabriel’s benefit: “But so far everyone seems to be saying the same things: absolutely no noise when it happened, they just woke up one morning and found the animal dead. There’s no clear pattern; goats, a couple of cows… A few of them called in the local vet to take a look at the carcasses, so we’ll be going to see her tomorrow.”

Gabriel reluctantly uncurls himself from his little spot of sunshine. “What about the missing pets?”

“Same as the cattle deaths; no noise, nothing out of place, they go missing just like that.”

Gabriel frowns. “What kind of pets are we talking about, exactly? Like the regular dogs and cats, or snakes, iguanas, dinosaurs – did I ever tell you that once I wanted a pet dinosaur?”

“You wanted a pet _dinosaur_?” Sam says, completely side-tracked for a moment. “What happened?”

“They went extinct.”

Gabriel hides his smirk, turns to look at Dean, who pointedly stares straight on ahead and mumbles, “Fuck my life.”

“Oh. Um.” Sam fumbles with his notebook. “The pets that went missing… Yup, dogs and cats, nothing exotic. But then again, this is a rural farming town, most families would only have dogs and cats.”

It’s weird; they’re either missing out on a detail somewhere, but there shouldn’t be any creature – living or dead or otherwise – that behaves this way. He keeps his thoughts to himself, and turns around to continue watching the road.

They don’t learn anything new even at the last house they go to, and they’re all distinctly grumpy as they drive back to the little town for dinner. Dean quickly finds a weathered-looking place with a large sign outside that proclaims they’re the _only_ steakhouse in town.

“I’ll bet,” Dean says, looking up at the sign with eyebrows raised. “With a population of five hundred, currently minus a few animals here and there.”

“Hey, Gabriel.” Sam suddenly looks slightly guilty. “Want me to get you anything to eat?”

Gabriel’s ears twitch. “Anything with peanut butter,” he says promptly.

“You’re a _cat_ ,” Sam says severely. “I’m not getting you peanut butter.”

“I’m an _angel_ ,” Gabriel corrects him in a hiss, but Dean’s already halfway up to the door and yelling at Sam to hurry up.

Sam sighs. “We’ll be right back.”

 

 

 

Sam actually gets him plain grilled fish fillets and a tiny slice of cake, which he holds high above his head as Gabriel scowls up at him.

“Finish the fish first, _then_ you get dessert,” Sam says.

“What, are you like my mom now?” Gabriel says indignantly. “Come on, it’s been _weeks_ since I had anything decent to eat, gimme that.”

“ _Fish_. Eat your fish,” Sam says through gritted teeth. He’s still holding the little paper box of cake above his head, way out of Gabriel’s reach.

Gabriel sighs, but he sniffs at the fish anyway. It’s already gone cold, but there’s just the faintest smell of butter and salt, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fact that he hasn’t eaten in nearly half a week. Not that he needs to eat, but after years of eating just for the fun of it, it does tend to develop into a fairly addictive habit.

“Is that cake chocolate?” he asks, half-hopefully, even though he can already guess the answer.

“Vanilla,” Sam says.

“Damn your puppy eyes,” Gabriel says, and delicately bites into one fish fillet. It’s surprisingly good, he quickly swallows it down and takes another bite. “I’m supposed to be the cute one here.”

“I do _not_ have puppy eyes,” Sam says, nearly forgetting to lower his voice into a whisper, then whips around in alarm to check that Dean hasn’t overheard him.

Gabriel just laughs through a mouthful of buttery fish. He almost forgets that he’s supposed to be mad at Sam.

_Almost_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... YIKES. Sorry for the late update? Chapter's short, but :|

“Stay out of trouble,” Sam said.

So Gabriel’s decidedly staying out of trouble as he waits for Sam and Dean to finish up interrogating the local vet – who turns out to be a rather attractive young woman with clever eyes and a bright smile. Taking over the business from her uncle, only been working here for the past couple or years or so – Gabriel hadn’t bothered to pay attention beyond that.

Something tells him they’re not going to be coming back out anytime soon. So off he goes, quietly thankful that it’s early enough in the morning that there’s nobody else around.

“I’m staying out of trouble,” Gabriel mutters to himself as he runs down the empty hallway that doubles as the waiting room, skirting around the spindly legs of the mismatched chairs lined up against one wall.

The early morning sunlight filters in through the windows in extremely tempting, dancing patches of warmth, but Gabriel determinedly looks away. It’s been getting easier to fight back his irritatingly feline instincts, he’s noticed, especially since after the Sam thing happened.

Even if he’ll never admit to himself that he still does enjoy the feeling of being petted.

(It’s such a shame that nobody really pets him now.)

He soon finds what he’s looking for: there’s a short, dim corridor leading off the main hallway, ending in a door that should lead to the rooms at the back. There’s a low whirring hum of ventilation fans, and the telltale, musky smell of animal is stronger here, laced with a thin scent of illness.

Evidently Dad is in a good mood today, because the door’s open just a crack, which solves his _minor_ problem of fucking not being able to open doors. Gabriel squeezes his way through, pauses as his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness.

Only two of the crates are occupied, one large one by a dog that’s staring mournfully at its food bowl, a smaller one by a sickly cat.

Gabriel tilts his head, curious. It’s somehow odd to see another cat – a real, actual cat – so he cautiously pads closer.

“Hi there,” he starts. “First things first: I’m not actually a cat, but don’t freak out. Can you talk? I need to ask you a few questions.”

The cat just looks at him like he’s being stupid, and meows piteously. Gabriel stares, then curses. _Of course_ it wouldn’t be that easy; if he’s just in a cat vessel, it would mean he’s _not actually a cat_ , which then means that he’s not going to be magically able to understand whatever stupid animal language that’s in vogue right now.

There goes his briliant plan right out the window.

The cat meows again, a sad little sound that’s starting to make Gabriel feel guilty. He delicately sniffs the air and smells a hint of disease, highly probably from an accidental poisoning – at least he hopes it’s accidental.

He shrugs uncomfortably. “Look, dude, I wish I could help, but I’m as useless as the average kitten right now. Angel battery all drained flat, you see.”

Clearly unimpressed, the cat looks sadly up at him, then slowly closes its eyes. Gabriel scowls.

“Don’t you die on me. Hey, I mean it. Hey. _Hey_.”

The cat’s eyes remain closed. Gabriel darts forwards in a panic, squishing his face up against the crate. “Oh come _on_ ,” he says furiously. He’s not even sure why he’s so upset over a stupid cat dying. Cats die every day. Things die every day. Hell, he’s even taken enough lives himself that he shouldn’t be so bothered by it. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He pokes in a paw through the thin bars, stretching out as far as he can reach. A tiny pop of static electricity bursts at the tip of his paw when it brushes against the still cat, and Gabriel springs back, more in surprise than pain.

“Ouch,” he mutters, lifting up his paw to examine it, but the only thing he gets out of it is that his claws might be due for another sharpening soon.

The dog barks at him.

Gabriel turns to look at it. The dog is standing up now, eyeing him in a way that sort of reminds him of a Leviathan – way too many teeth – that’s making him slightly uncomfortable.

He backs away, unsure now. “Uh. Hi?”

The dog eyes him, growls and lets out another sharp, warning bark.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just… go,” Gabriel says hastily.

He spots another door across the room, and instinctively he sprints in that direction. He almost forgets to slow down as he approaches and crashes right into the door, solidly bouncing off with a small _oof_.

The door’s closed _and_ bolted shut, by the looks of it. Gabriel makes a face, then reaches out to experimentally lean his weight against it anyway.

Nothing happens. He doesn’t even know why he bothered trying at all.

Gabriel flattens himself down onto the floor, nosing at the low gap between the door and the floor. Something smells nice here, all pleasant and familiar and comforting, and he whines, scrabbling at the floor as though it’s going to get him anywhere closer to the source of the smell.

And then he realises that maybe he should get back to Sam. He sighs, gets up and dusts himself off, slightly reluctant to leave. He tries to convince himself that he’s not actually scared of that dog, and sighs again.

He’ll just make a run for it.

The cat meows loudly as he runs past.

He narrowly avoids crashing headfirst into an empty pet carrier as he skids to a halt, whips around and stares.

The damned cat looks perfectly healthy now, pacing about in its crate, tail upright and flicking back and forth. It looks directly at him and meows again.

“Well, shit,” Gabriel says.

 

 

 

“So.” Gabriel is in his usual spot on the dashboard again, his paws folded and claws carefully tucked in because Dean’s going to kick up a fuss if he scratches anything up, and because he does actually know how to be nice. “Find anything important?”

Sam seems confused, while Dean just looks annoyed. Gabriel focuses on Sam as Dean starts up the car.

“Nothing,” Sam says, sounding resigned. “No missing organs, no obvious cause of death unless you count the fact that they were all literally slashed to bits. Something is definitely going on, but it doesn’t sound like anything we’ve ever heard of.”

Gabriel frowns as he tries to remember if he’s ever come across anything like this, but draws a blank. He lets a few more minutes pass, then says, carefully, “I went exploring while you guys were chatting up the hot vet.”

He can literally see Sam’s eyebrows twitching in impending horror. It’s hilarious. “What did you do,” Sam says flatly.

“I think I might have brought a dead cat back to life,” Gabriel says slowly.

There’s a long pause.  

“Would you mind repeating that,” Sam says through gritted teeth.

“I found a dead cat,” Gabriel says, then reconsiders his choice of words. “Okay no, it wasn’t dead when I found it, it was sick. Then it died, I might have touched it and then it… came back to life? I swear I didn’t create a zombie cat, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Dean just looks at Sam. “If it’s not important, I don’t want to know.”

Sam ignores him. “You mean to say you healed a dead cat?” He actually sounds excited. “You have your angel powers – or whatever you call it – back?”

Gabriel sits up a little straighter. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I wasn’t even _trying_ to heal it. Haven’t done any of that healing crap for about a couple of thousand of years.”

It’s kind of true. Gabriel isn’t sure if he remembers how to heal anyone – he’s never had any reason to do it ever since he walked out on the shitfest that was his family. He doesn’t even know if he can even _do_ it anymore; angel powers tend to go out of whack if left unused or misused for too long. Lucifer’s a prime example of that.

And for some reason the thought of it is oddly depressing. He rolls over, listens absently as Sam translates their conversation to Dean.

Castiel turns up in the backseat a couple of minutes later, just as Dean’s deciding that they should drive around town for a bit, randomly stopping here and there to talk to the locals. (Gabriel supposes it’s their way of deliberating as they try to think of a new plan.) Sam nearly jumps out of his seat in surprise, but Dean is supremely unconcerned, like he’s already been expecting him.

“Gabriel, I heard your powers might have returned,” Cas says immediately, clearly still too bothered with the human concept of actually starting a conversation with a greeting.

Sam frowns, and gives Dean a questioning look. “How did you know about it?”

“Dean told me.”

Sam frowns even more. “When did _that_ happen?”

Cas seems bewildered. Dean, on the other hand, seems to be going red about the ears, and is very pointedly staring straight ahead at the road. Wordlessly he swiftly reaches out a hand and jacks up the volume on the radio to near deafening.

“He informed me about it two seconds ago?” Cas says puzzled, over what sounds like a heavy metal singer attempting to scream his lungs out. Sam hisses and turns the volume back down.

“I like to call it the lovers’ telepathy,” Gabriel says in a mock whisper. Then –

Oh. Oh. _Oh_.

 

 

 

It’s something he’s only ever heard of through the grapevine, never having experienced anything like it before for himself. Bonds forming between guardian-rank angels and their charges – not the kind that lead to the creation of nephilim, but the kind that manifests in other, odd ways.

The way Castiel seems to be so closely attuned to Dean’s mental state. The way Dean can somehow read through the hundred complicated layers of Castiel.

But Gabriel? He is _not_ in love with Sam Winchester.

Sure, Sam has a few redeeming qualities that make him stand out amongst the rest of the earth’s human population. _Sure_ , Sam’s also the suit the Devil himself was planning on wearing to the prom. But he’s also a Winchester, a fairly kickass hunter by human standards, and he’s been kind to Gabriel, even after discovering his new pet kitten is in fact a dead archangel.

Gabriel growls at himself, frustrated.

“Gabriel? What’s up?”

Just his luck. Sam kneels down, peering at him anxiously.

“Nothing,” Gabriel says. “Where’s Castiel and Dean?”

“They went out to get food.” Sam hesistates, seems to decide against pointing out the obvious fact that there’s a chance they’re probably just making out in the car, then says, “Can I pick you up? It’s kinda awkward talking like this.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Gabriel tries not to think about how big Sam’s hands are as he gently scoops him up and sets him on the nightstand. He wobbles a little as he finds his balance, paws slipping on the polished surface.

He also tries not to think about how the bonding thing is a mutual thing that works both ways.

“You know, I think Cas is good for Dean,” Sam says suddenly. He looks slightly mortified that he’s even talking about his brother’s love life, but he awkwardly goes on anyway. “Dean’s toned down on the obnoxious flirting and sleeping around, and he just seems more grounded, somehow?”

“Trust me, out of all the angels I know, Castiel’s one of the last ones I would have expected to rebel against Heaven.” Gabriel swishes his tail about. “It’s like finding out your littlest, most innocent little brother suddenly grew up, ran away and started organising orgy Sundays instead of going to church. I’m so proud of him.”

Sam just gives him a look.

“Okay, fine.” Gabriel sighs, changes the topic. “Hey Sam, could you do me a favour?”

“Hm?”

“Let me out for a bit. I’ll run around tonight, see if I can find anything.”

“You’re a _kitten_. You’re not going to get very far out on your own.”

Gabriel raises a paw. “Unlike regular mass-produced kittens, I don’t get tired, I’m pretty fast _and_ I don’t get hurt.”

It takes a few more minutes of cajoling, but finally Sam relents. Sam carries him out as far as the main road, curled up in a ball under his jacket. It’s cold out, and Sam looks anxious as he bends down, carefully releases him onto the side of the road.

“Where are you going? Will you know the way back?”

“I’ll just follow my instincts” Gabriel sniffs at the air, then delicately adds, “I won’t get lost, I know what I’m doing. I’ll be back by dawn, I promise.”

Sam still looks unconvinced. Gabriel suddenly feels an urge to bop Sam on the nose but Sam’s face is too high up for that now, so he settles for patting his shoe in what he hopes would accurately translate as a comforting gesture.

“Be careful,” Sam says, at last.

“Gotcha.”

Gabriel closes his eyes and thinks. Then he starts running.

He doesn’t know how far he goes, or how long he spends running, but he soon discovers that asphalt roads are incredibly uncomfortable to run on, so he veers off the road for the little dirt path next to it instead. He nearly gets blinded a few times by passing cars with their headlights turned up.

In the end, he finds himself on a sidewalk somewhere in town. Most of the stores are closed now, and he slows down to a trot, grimacing at how dirty his fur is going to be after tonight.

There’s a flickering light up ahead. Gabriel speeds up slightly, sees that it’s just the brightly-lit signboard of the local clinic.

And then suddenly there’s someone behind him. Gabriel whips around, sees a pair of feet wearing pink sandals, then hears a voice.

_“That’s the one_.”

That wasn’t English. It’s not even a language that’s supposed to be spoken by anyone alive right now.

“Oh fuck,” Gabriel says, and his world goes black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I am SO SO SORRY that this took me ages. Had a bunch of stuff happen irl that left me with no time to focus on writing fic. And also I have to say that this was originally meant to be a single chapter that somehow expanded by itself and it was never meant to be this long! I don't think I've done this any justice, but I simply don't think I'll have more time to write this any better.

 

Gabriel wakes up wonderfully contented and to the soft murmur of chanting. Groggily, he attempts to roll himself to his feet but his limbs don’t seem to want to cooperate, so he yawns and curls up to go back to sleep.

Then he snaps awake again.

There’s that wonderfully pleasant smell again, the exact same smell he’d discovered at the back of the vet’s clinic. Now that his senses are all on alert, he realises what it reminds him of: his days spent disguising himself as a trickster demigod. Fragant herbs and smoky incense, altars of magic and blood offered up to the minor gods.

Gabriel allows himself a moment to feel insulted that he was actually _kidnapped_ – although in hindsight, it was just the extremely simple matter of picking him up and shoving him into a black cloth bag, then shooting him with a small dose of tranquilizer.

He’s vaguely surpised that he’s still alive; not that he thinks whoever who kidnapped him would be able to kill him, but he would be more surprised if they _haven’t_ tried ripping him to literal shreds yet.

He cracks open one eye halfway, and peeks around. He thinks he’s in some sort of a small pet cage – again, _insulting_ , like he’s a common household pet, in the corner of a darkened room lit by a single candle in an ornamental brass sconce hanging from the ceiling. There’s some sort of an altar right below it, a low table bearing bowls of herbs and glass vials of blood.

There’s a cloaked figure standing in front of the altar, its back to him. Gabriel squints at it, then carefully stands up. He sways about for a moment, suddenly dizzy, then rights himself with some effort.

“Hey there, you,” Gabriel calls out, partly because his sense of self-preservation doesn’t extend to _not_ mouthing off to potentially dangerous things that might kill him, and partly because he’s still annoyed. “Did you know the whole doom and gloom theme went out of fashion a few hundred years ago?”

The figure slowly turns around. “Silence,” it says, its voice a breathy whisper that doesn’t sound quite human. “You are interrupting my ritual. I will deal with you in a moment.”

“Rude,” Gabriel retorts, and scowls when he gets ignored.

He paces about, examining his cage. It looks like an ordinary pet crate, but with a wire twisted around the already-bolted door to secure it shut. Interesting. So they _do_ know he’s not an ordinary cat.

Gabriel takes a few steps back, crouches down and wiggles slightly, then propels himself at the door with all his strength, attempting to forcibly ram his way through it.  

It doesn’t work. He growls faintly as he gets to his feet again.

“Fuck you,” he tells the door, then looks up at his captor. “And fuck you, too.”

It’s a long time before the person in the cloak comes around to him, bending down on one knee as they lower their hood, and Gabriel looks right into a pair of cloudy scarlet eyes set in a face that’s only vaguely human.

“You little pest.”

“You’re a witch,” Gabriel says, smug that his first guess is right after all – Hah, take that, Sam! – “But you’ve been _baaad,_ and that got you corrupted, and now you don’t even look human anymore. How old are you? One hundred? Five hundred? A thousand?”

“Tell me the name of your Masters,” Red Eyes hisses.

Gabriel stares up at her, surprised that she’s actually talking _to_ him. “What?”

Red Eyes snarls, hands shooting out to rattle the bars of his cage. Gabriel reflexively jumps back.

“Who do you work for?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gabriel says. “Believe me, I’ll like to have my ability to read minds back too, but until then you’ll just have to explain yourself.”

Clearly that’s not the answer Red Eyes wants. This time Gabriel only jumps backwards _a little_ when she smacks across his cage in frustration, and stands up again.

“Very well,” she says. “If you refuse to cooperate, I’ll just have to torture it out of you somehow. For now, you can just stay here in the dark with no food or water.”

“Um. Okay. If that makes you happy,” Gabriel says. “Wait. You don’t even understand anything I’m saying.”

 Red Eyes doesn’t respond. Instead she spins about, her cloak billowing out around her, and in true dramatic exit fashion (at least that’s something Gabriel knows how to appreciate) strides out and slams the door behind her.

 

 

 

Strangely, it’s not even that dark.

The flame of the candle’s long died out, and with no other light source in the room, Gabriel shouldn’t be able to see _this_ clearly. Somehow. Maybe – he feels slightly hopeful when he thinks it – the angel part of himself is slowly becoming stronger now.

And he’s _frustrated._ He’s currently attempting to chew through a corner of the cage where the metal bars join the plastic base, even if all he’s managed to do so far is to bite off the layers of paint covering the metal. It’s taking a lot longer than he expected.

He tries not to think how pathetic he might look now.

He also tries not to think about how much time has passed since he got himself captured. And he tries not to think about how he confidently promised Sam that he would return to him.

 _Sam_ , he thinks desperately, feeling stupid because there’s no way he’s going to be able to reach Sam like this, but tries his best anyway, willing Sam to hear him, _If you can hear me, it’s the vet and she’s fug._

The thought of Sam makes him even more determined to escape, and he goes back to his chewing with renewed vigour.

 

 

 

Red Eyes is dressed more conventionally when she comes back hours later, carrying a bowl with her. Gabriel quickly steps away from his half-chewed up corner and tries to look innocent but Red Eyes ignores him, instead going up to the altar and setting the bowl down on it.

Once he’s sure that she’s completely engrossed in whatever she’s doing, Gabriel boldly goes forwards again, presses up against the bars and sniffs deeply.

Goat blood, he decides. Very fresh, pure, probably drained from whatever poor animal’s throat before it was magically torn to pieces to cover up any evidence. He continues watching her, following her every movement and the way her lips form the silent words of a long-dead language.

It takes him a good few minutes to figure out what’s happening here, but when he finally does, he lets out a small laugh, quite unwillingly impressed.

“Hey, Red Eyes,” Gabriel calls out impulsively, because it’s not like she can understand him anyway. “How’s the rejuvenation spells coming along?”

He paces about as Red Eyes takes out a few sprigs of fresh herbs, and sets them on fire. The smell is pleasant and distracting, threatening to lull him into sleep again, and Gabriel determinedly goes back to his corner and stares at the bitten plastic, tries to remind himself that he need to get back to Sam somehow.

He blinks; Red Eyes is suddenly standing in front of him again, this time holding a tiny clay saucer of slowly-burning oil. _Uh oh_. Gabriel hastily backs away, staring at the fumes rising from the heated oil that’s probably going to either knock him out or cause him immense pain, or maybe even both - and reminds himself to stop breathing.

“You’re a smart one,” Red Eyes says. “This is interesting. How are you still not weakened?”

“Kitty power,” Gabriel says promptly; he misses dishing out smartass remarks and getting away with them.

And then suddenly there’s a loud bang and a muffled shout, followed by a wailing sound that makes Gabriel cringe. It _hurts_ his ears, like a high-pitched, grating shriek, and it’s not a sound he’s supposed to be able to hear in his current vessel because there’s no way cats should be able to hear anything on that frequency-

“ _Sam!_ ” Gabriel yells, because he just _knows_ that it’s the brothers, and that Sam and Dean are generally _terrible_ when it comes to witches, and he’s suddenly worried, “In here!”

There’s a faint pop, and Gabriel’s alone again in the room. He blinks, stares and sees the lingering traces of magic in the air, bright iridiscent colours swirling in the darkness, and fuck, that’s a pretty powerful witch.

“Sam,” he whines, then makes up his mind.

Desperate, he lunges right at his chewed corner, putting all his strength into it, fuck it if he’s going to give himself a concussion instead because he _needs_ to be out there with Sam right now. Fuck it if he’s being stupid for being this silly and protective of some human who probably doesn’t care as much as he does-

The cage explodes into bits of plastic and broken metal around him.

Gabriel barely registers it, instead racing right for the closed door. He bursts right through it, fragments of wood and metal falling around him and a splinter drives itself all the way up his front left paw. A tiny spot of blood blossoms up around the wound but it doesn’t hurt him, so he ignores it.

He _has_ to get to Sam.

It’s dark, and he has no idea where he is, so he lets his instincts guide him. That little part deep within him that even while confined in a tiny kitten vessel, is still all angel and power and rage that his Sam is in danger.

There’s another high, terrible noise, more shouting. Gabriel recognises Dean’s voice, cursing loudly and calling for his brother in a panic. He fights back his own feelings of dread, and focuses on locating Sam.

“Gabriel?” someone says tentatively, and Gabriel runs smack into what feels like a thick canvas sneaker and topples over.

“ _Sam_ ,” Gabriel says, relief flooding him like a torrent at the sound of the familiar voice. He wriggles, leaps up right at him and falls neatly into Sam’s waiting hands.

“You’re alive?”

“There’s no need to sound so impressed,” Gabriel says wryly. He noses at Sam’s palms, allowing himself a moment to breathe in Sam’s smell; he’s sort of missed it. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but I’m kinda hard to kill. Perks of being an archangel.”

Sam isn’t amused. “Are you okay? Did they do anything to you?”

Gabriel feels Sam’s fingers gently running down his fur, like he’s actually worried and checking him for injuries. Sam props Gabriel up against his chest with one hand, rummages in his pocket with the other and pulls out a small flashlight, clicking it on and shining it over Gabriel.

Gabriel blinks at the sudden brightness, but his eyes rapidly adjust as he looks up at Sam. Sam looks pale, his face drawn tight in worry, eyebrows scrunched up cutely in a way that reminds Gabriel of a rather upset puppy.

“You’re bleeding,” Sam says, looking even more worried.

“Ah.” Gabriel lifts up his paw and sees the thick splinter of wood lodged in it, a fat drop of blood slowly oozing out from where it’s buried into his flesh. “Don’t worry about it, just pull it out and I’ll heal up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. What’s the game plan?”

Sam turns more serious now. “We just came to get you out,” he says grimly. “Dean and I split up, he was supposed to distract the witch while I looked for you, and then we were going to retreat until we figured out what she’s up to, and how to stop her. We should go now, I don’t how how Dean’s doing.”

That feels strangely touching. Gabriel thinks fast. “What do you have with you?”

“Iron,” Sam says immediately. “My usual knife and gun. What are you thinking?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “That’s not going to be enough, this one’s strong. Get Dean, I’ll-”

There’s another loud bang, followed by the sound of something heavy falling over. Gabriel’s ears prick up and he hears Dean’s voice, muffled through the walls.

“Dean’s found her,” Gabriel says, and quickly shakes his head when he senses that Sam’s about to argue. “Sammy, listen to me and do exactly as I say. Dean’s still out in the hallway, go get him and get the fuck out. I’ll deal with the witch-”

Sam hisses. “I’m not letting you do this alone, we don’t even know what’s happening here. And the last time this happened, you ended up dead!”

Gabriel wants to snap back, but stops himself just in time. He feels a strange mixture of emotions coursing through him. Frustration that Sam won’t _listen_. Euphoric power, almost intoxicating in a way he hasn’t felt for way too long, like tendrils of his former self wrapping around him in a familiar cocoon of pure unbridled energy.

A growing elation, honey warm and exhilarating, that Sam actually _cares_ for him.

He doesn’t remember the last time anyone actually gave a fuck about him.

“Sam,” Gabriel says, quieter now but still firm. “Listen to me. I know what the witch’s up to. It’s a simple ritual meant for re-enhancing innate power, all she needed was goat blood but she was covering her tracks by attacking random animals all over town, confusing any hunters on her trail.”

“And where do _you_ come into the picture?”

Gabriel has to snort at that. “She obviously could sense I’m not a regular cat, my best guess is that she assumed I was a rival witch’s Familiar.”

Sam stares at him. “Oh,” he says lamely, finally. “I see.”

“And I think I might be getting my mojo back,” Gabriel says. And it’s true; it’s like someone (probably Dad) is slowly flipping on the switches one by one in his head. He can feel his senses sharpening, the tiniest sounds amplified hundredfold, the waves of power rippling around them. The turmoil of Sam’s emotions, vague and muddled but still disconcerting in its intensity.

“What are you going to do?” Sam says softly.

“I promise I won’t get myself killed,” Gabriel says. He hesitates, then darts forwards, licks the bare skin of Sam’s wrist. It’s such a feline instinct, but it’s the best way he can think of expressing himself right now. “I know how to cut off a witch’s power. Complicated, but not too dangerous. Go get Dean, I’ll meet you boys back at your motel when I’m done. Just… Help me get this splinter out?”

Sam’s hands shake slightly as he carefully pinches one end of the fragment of wood between his thumb and forefinger, gently pulls it out. Gabriel tests his weight on his injured paw, finds that it’s a little sore but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

“Gabriel-”

“Sammy. Go.”

“Promise me you’ll come back,” Sam says, and it almost sounds like he’s _begging_.

“I promise,” Gabriel says. He tries to sound flippant, but he can’t bring himself to do it, especially not with the way Sam’s looking down at him so earnestly. “See you in a bit.”

 

 

 

He’s really got to quit his self-sacrificing tendencies when it comes to the Winchester boys, Gabriel thinks, slightly hysterically, as he runs so fast towards Red Eyes that everything around him is a blur. Lets out all the power he can gather within himself, feeling the air around him heat up as hot as a hundred suns, a light erupting out of his ridiculously tiny vessel, bright enough to blind.

The darkness consumes him for the second time, the vast empty nothingness of permanent _death_ , but this time Gabriel’s only regret that is his last words to his Sammy had to be a lie.


End file.
